Worst Nightmare
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: NCIS investigate the murder of one of Sylar's victims and find themselves in a world they never knew existed.
1. Reddon

He kept running. He couldn't stop. Laughter rang in his ears as the man behind him ran as well. Jacob couldn't shake the feeling that this man was toying with him, that if he wanted this to end, Jacob's life would be extinguished by now.

But he kept running anyway. He couldn't fight, despite how he'd tried.

"That's the typical solution!" Came the voice behind him, still laughing, still running. "Run as fast as your legs can carry you, because you can never get far enough away!"

Jacob didn't respond. His heart was hammering. His lungs felt like they would explode.

There was a flash of light, and a nearby tree collapsed. Splinters dug into his skin as he scrambled over it, trying to ignore the laughter behind him…

He ran into something, and stumbled backwards, swearing breathlessly.

The man smiled and wrapped his hand around Jacob's throat. "Hello." He said cheerfully.

Jacob couldn't respond. He clawed at the hands around his throat, kicked and struggled, but the man had an iron grip that remained even after his hands let go.

"Sorry about this." The man smirked, raising a finger towards Jacob's forehead. He paused, reconsidering. "Oh, wait. That's a lie." He grinned malevolently. "I'm not sorry at all."

Jacob screamed as red hot pain seared through his forehead. The man continued to smile as the dark night wore on…

* * *

"That. Is…" Anthony DiNozzo looked like he'd lose his lunch.

"Disturbing?" Ziva David suggested.

"Disgusting." he corrected.

Most of those who examined the body agreed; the sight was a particularly gruesome one. The top of his head had been severed, and blood pooled heavily around the area.

"His name was Jacob Reddon." Ziva informed him. "He was twenty-three years old."

"Family?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs asked, walking up next to them.

"A sister. Anna Reddon. No one else."

"I was told she took it pretty badly when she heard." Tony said, trying to keep his eyes off of the body. "Apparently the two were close."

"No motive, then?" Gibbs asked.

"None."

"Right. Get the body to Ducky. See what he can find out."

* * *

Tony knocked on the door, gently. "Anna Reddon?"

"Coming!" Someone inside snapped harshly.

He waited for a minute, and the door was yanked open by a young woman. She had flaming red hair, and bright brown eyes that seemed flecked with amber.

"Anna?"

She shook her head. "Katie." She extended a hand. "Family friend." She looked at him for a moment before continuing "Anna's pretty shook up about the whole thing. Doesn't really want to talk."

But Tony ignored the last sentence, showing her his ID. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Can I come in?"

Katie looked back at the house warily. "Umm… she's _really _not in a taking mood."

Tony just raised an eyebrow. "Please?" he added.

She glared at him. "I take it you're not going to give up?"

"Not a chance."

She sighed heavily. "This way."

She opened the door wider so that Tony could walk in.

He followed her down a corridor, into a small room. It had pale blue walls, and large bed, a single swivel chair, and a TV.

There, on the bed, was a young woman. A tube was in her throat, obviously there to enable breathing. An IV was in her arm, and she was hooked up to wires and machinery. Not a person who would be able to go outside and murder her brother.

Tony swallowed, taken off guard. "I… I didn't know, I'm sorry…"

Katie glared at him. "Yeah, well, you do now."

"What is it?"

"Lung cancer." She replied simply. "Hasn't been able to breathe on her own for a while now." She sighed heavily. "Only got a few weeks left. If you're optimistic. Most doctors say it'll be days."

There was silence for a moment.

Finally, Katie turned to him. "She's asleep now, but if you want to ask any questions, I can…you know. Do it for her."

Tony nodded, and Katie led them out of the room.

"She was devastated when she found out." Katie said as she sat down, her eyes unfocused, as though she was trying to, or trying _not _to, remember something. "She cried for the better part of an hour. Eventually, I had to give her a sedative, get her to sleep so she didn't exhaust herself."

Tony swallowed, unsure of what to say. Finally, he asked, "Do you know anyone who had a grudge against Jacob? Someone who might have…?"

"Murdered him?" She intervened, then shook her head. "No. Jake was a good guy. Almost everyone he met liked him instantly."

"Almost?" Tony jumped on the word.

Katie swallowed nervously, keeping her mouth shut.

"Well?" Tony asked.

She sighed. "You have to understand. Jake was… different… from most people. I mean, not in a bad way," She added hastily, noting Tony's expression. "But…" She looked down.

"But…?"

She looked back at him, and just stared in silence for a long time.

"Katie, if you know anyone who might have done this…"

"Oh, I know exactly who did it, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." She said suddenly. "And I know why."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Jake was _special._" She whispered. "He could do things no one else could. He only ever had one enemy, and that enemy didn't even know who he was."

Tony looked at her, puzzled. "But how…?"

But Katie would not be stopped. Her words were flowing in a rush, as though she was suddenly desperate to say them. "Jake had an enemy, one who killed him because of who and what he was."

Tony thought about this. "Like a racial thing? The guy was prejudiced against this kind of 'special' person?"

"No, no no." She shook her head irritably. "Worse than that. Jake was different from almost everyone else. He could…"

"That's enough, Katie!" A sharp voice interrupted.

Katie swallowed, the blood draining from her face. She looked down hurriedly.

Tony turned to face the man. He was tall, and had huge muscles that said he spent every free moment in the gym. Scars decorated his arms and face, and there was a nasty-looking burn on the side of his neck. Behind him, around three people were standing, watching Tony and Katie carefully.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And you would be…?"

"I don't think names matter." The man growled.

Katie glared hatefully at him. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, this is Brock." Her eyes narrowed.

He glared at her, then dismissed her remark with the wave of a hand. "Like I said. Names don't matter." He turned to Tony and handed him few pieces of paper. "And I'm afraid her statements don't either. Not to you." He smiled somewhat nastily as Tony hesitantly looked over the documents, raising an eyebrow at the president's signature.

Tony sighed heavily. "So we're off this case?" he questioned.

"Oh, no." Brock replied with a smile. "You're just not permitted to ask neither Katie nor Anna any questions relating to

Jacob Reddon." He looked pointedly at Katie, who looked down again. Her anger had ebbed away once more, and now she looked absolutely terrified.

Tony nodded slowly, compliantly, though he knew that Gibbs would never accept this. "Very well. I'll just… get out of your hair, shall I?"

Brock nodded once, sharply. Tony backed out of the room slowly, then walked out of the house, listening carefully. But no one said a word until he was out the door.

"What are you playing at?" Brock demanded of Katie as soon as the door had closed behind Tony.

Katie winced. "He deserves to know!"

Brock raised a hand like he might slap her, but she stared him down. "Do you realize what this means for _her?_"

"_Stop it!" _Katie cried, on her feet suddenly. "She never did anything to you! She's not _dangerous, _and I'm sick of you holding _her _over my head every time you want someone to do your dirty work! Forget it! She wouldn't want this!"

_**ENOUGH!**_

Katie, Brock, and the few men who had come with him gasped in pain as the voice rang through their minds.

_**Leave us, Brock! And take the slime with you!**_

Katie smirked as Brock and the others (aforementioned 'slime') slowly backed out of the house.

"This isn't over." Brock hissed threateningly at Katie. She swallowed, but stared directly into his eyes until he left.

* * *

Gibbs wasn't in a good mood. DiNozzo had told him about what had happened with Anna and Katie. He didn't particularly like people telling him how to do his job, and whenever people told him not to do something, he made it his business to ignore them.

"Tell me you have something." He asked Doctor 'Ducky' Mallard.

Ducky sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. The wound on his head was inflicted premortem. And it was what killed him in the end." He sighed again. "Though I have no idea how it was done."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it was done with some sort of very fine, very sharp, and very _precise _blade!" Ducky said, obviously irritated. He looked at Gibbs and calmed down instantly. "You have to understand. There isn't a blade in the _world _that could do this, especially not with a _live _victim. There's no evidence that Jacob Redden was unconscious while this happened, so he would have been _struggling. _There's no possible way a blade could do that!"

Gibbs looked at him. "Anything else?"

Ducky nodded, grateful for the subject change. "Fortunately, yes. We found a set of fingerprints on the throat area. Abby's analyzing them now."

* * *

Music blared and Abigail Sciuto danced from computer to computer, never keeping still.

Gibbs entered the room with a large drink, and Abby smiled.

"Yes!" She snagged the drink from his hand and glued her lips to the straw for a moment before speaking again. "You are a _life_ _saver._"

Gibbs smiled at her. "Anything on those fingerprints?"

She shook her head, her lips once more on the bright red straw, only taken off to say, "When I find out, you'll be the second to know!" She twirled back to the computer screen. "But I did find something interesting."

Gibbs came up next to her.

"So, I saw this freaky little burn mark on his shirt, which made no sense to me. So, I did a few tests, and guess what I found?"

"What?"

She took a large gulp of her drink before answering. "It's _radioactive._" She replied, pleased with herself.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Radioactive?"

"Yep. I tested all of it. His clothes were about to explode. Had to lock them up."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "You're sure about this?"

Abby looked at him indignantly. "When have I ever been wrong?"

He smiled and she smiled back, turning to a different computer screen.

* * *

Ducky was starting to get somewhat annoyed by the body in the room. "Who did this to you, hmm? Someone very skilled with a blade, of course, but _who…?_"

He trailed off. "How?" he asked instead.

"It's a long story."

Ducky jumped, then slowly turned around to face the corpse.

Thankfully, its eyes were closed. It hadn't moved.

And there was someone living inside the room.

He was wearing all black. He had short, dark hair, and a very serious expression on his face.

"Why now, though?" the man asked, not looking at Ducky, but at the corpse. "Why would he do this now? When did he find out?" he started pacing.

"Does he know about the sister? What about Katie?" He stopped, his face suddenly pale. "What about…?"

He started pacing again. "Where _is he?_" he roared suddenly, knocking into a glass cabinet and throwing it over in rage. Glass and chemicals littered the floor.

"If you would be so kind as to not destroy anything else…!" Ducky said angrily, trailing off as the man looked at him for the first time.

The man looked stunned that Ducky was there. No one said anything for a moment, then the man nodded slowly.

"Yes. Yes. You're right, of course. Sorry." He looked at the shattered glass for a moment, as though unsure of what to do, then lifted a hand.

The cabinet rose with his hand, standing upright once more. The unbroken bottles rose in mid-air, then landed on the shelves. The glass and liquids went to the trash cans.

Satisfied, the man turned around. "Er… right. Sorry about the glass. And anything… else I might have broken." He looked more than a little awkward, seemingly having just noticed Ducky was there.

Ducky swallowed, his eyes still on the now-clear area. "How… How did you…?"

The man turned to the cabinet, then back to Ducky. "Oh. Right. You don't know, do you?" he sighed heavily.

"Know what?" Ducky asked tentatively.

He never found out what the man was going to say next, because, at that moment, someone screamed.

* * *

Abby started running. She grabbed the first defensive object she could (a pair of scissors) and held them threateningly at the smirking man in front of her.

He laughed. "Aw, look at that. Most just start running." His laughed died down to a chuckle. "You're brave, I'll give you that."

"Stay away!" She warned.

He smiled. "Could you really do it, Abigail Sciuto? Could you actually kill someone?"

She held the scissors higher. "How do you know my name?" She demanded.

He was suddenly right next to her, and Abby had to reposition the scissors. "Oh, I know a lot of things. I know you have a set of fingerprints that interest me." He glared at the office. "NCIS. Never thought you lot would give me trouble." He sighed and turned back to Abby. "But your actions tipped off the wrong people. So I have to fix everything you did." His eyes darkened. "So just give me any information you have on those fingerprints, and I'll leave, shall I?"

She glared at him, raising the scissors higher. "Don't make me do this."

He smiled and stepped even closer. "By all means, do what you'd like. I'm sure it won't affect me in the slightest."

He moved suddenly, and instinct took over. Abby brought the scissors down, into his chest.

But he didn't seem to care.

In fact, he laughed.

"Good!" He praised her. "Very good. You missed the heart, though." He carefully gripped the scissors, and pulled them out of his chest, where the hole healed itself.

He grinned maliciously. "Sorry, Abby. I actually kind of liked you." He sighed and placed the still bloody scissors on the table. Abby backed away, her eyes wide with shock.

He came towards her slowly as she backed away. "Now. Where are those fingerprints?"

She kept her mouth shut, still too stunned to answer.

He sighed again. "I tried to be nice." He raised a hand, a single finger pointed at her forehead.

A crimson line started to appear, and Abby screamed.

* * *

The first person to react to Abby's scream was not Gibbs. Nor was it Tony, nor McGee, nor Ducky.

It was the strange man who had suddenly appeared and had smashed Ducky's cabinet.

"He's _here!_" he cried, and started to run.

Ducky followed, though found he could not keep up as the man sped down the corridors, following the sound of Abby's screaming.

He burst through into the room, causing the man to stop in his attack. He dropped Abby, and she landed on the floor, scrambling to get away before the man slammed a foot into her head, knocking her out.

The man smirked. "Ah, Peter Petrelli. How did I know you'd be here?"

The other's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he launched himself at the other man, his hands lit with a strange, crackling blue light.

But the other man smirked and pressed the scissors into Peter's hands. "Enjoy prison!" he whispered, stabbing the scissor blades into his own chest.

Gibbs, Tony, and Ziva came into the room. Gibbs raised his gun. "Put the scissors _down!_"

The man who had attacked Abby was a brilliant actor. He chocked, blood splattering from his lips. He stumbled backwards theatrically, looking at the scissors as though he couldn't believe they were there.

Peter's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. "No!" He cried. "It's not me, it's him! He's the…" He trailed off as he looked at the disbelieving faces. Torn with indecision, he placed his hands on his head, looking warily at the man on the floor, who was covered in blood.

* * *

Ducky looked at the table with the dead man on it. He sighed. "Not a good way to go, is it?" He cleared away the blood carefully.

The corpse's eyes snapped open, and Ducky leapt backwards.

"Not particularly." He mused as he sat up slowly. He smirked, and Ducky remembered no more.

* * *

"My name is Peter. Peter Petrelli. And I didn't kill him."

"Oh?" Tony was smiling. "So, what, the scissors leapt from your hand and into his chest, did they?"

Peter let out an agonized groan of frustration. "Don't you get it? He killed Jacob Reddon!"

Tony raised an eyebrow. "And, what, you wanted revenge?"

"No! Listen to me, he's going to get out! He wants your friend dead, the one with all the tattoos!"

"Abby?"

"Yes!" Peter stood up. "And for some reason, I don't know _what,_ he wants her dead, do you understand? _Dead._ And if he wants her dead then it will happen. Sooner or later, he will kill her."

Tony looked at him, suddenly disgusted. "You killed him! How could he be a threat to anyone?"

"Because it's…" He started, but trailed off as he saw the unfocused look in Tony's eyes. "No." he breathed. "Oh, no no no no…"

"What?" Tony demanded.

Peter leapt to his feet. "You bastard! You low-life son of a bitch!" He swore over and over, the worst words he knew. Tony suddenly got very still, standing in position as though frozen. He didn't seem to notice Peter anymore.

Peter slammed his hands against the mirror, where he knew the other man was watching him. "She's nothing, she's human!" He curled his hands into fists, slamming them again and again into the mirror. "You asshole! Don't you see, she's only human!" In his desperation, Peter could not stop himself. He chocked, desperate to destroy the man on the other side. "She's human! I'm… I'm not!"

He paused for a moment, listening almost hopefully.

"Very noble, Peter Petrelli." An amused voice called from the other room, carried over by some sort of microphone. "Surprising, though, considering that Abby is, like you said, only human. And, as far as I know, there's no past history…" The voice thought about this for a moment. "You two never dated, did you?"

"You should know me better than that by now." Peter replied. "I've given this a lot of thought. And if it would stop you killing everyone…" he closed his eyes. "Then so help me, I don't care if you take my ability. It's not like I can die."

There was silence for a minute. Finally, the other man spoke again. "You'd really let me just… take it?"

Peter nodded.

"Just come in there…" There was a note of excitement in the man's voice now. "Slice open your head, and become just like you?"

Peter nodded again. "Whatever it takes. Just stop killing everyone!"

There was a long, thoughtful silence. Peter tried not to think about how badly it would hurt, how powerful the most dangerous man alive would become afterwards… but he knew it was for the best.

Finally, the reply came. "No."

Peter was taken off guard. "What do you mean, no?" He tried to be angry, but he was too bewildered.

"I mean no."

"Why not?" the desperation was back. Peter felt his heart speed up.

"There's something I never told you, Peter Petrelli. Something hardly anyone knows." There was a pause (the man always did like his theatrics) before he spoke again.

"This is who I am, don't you see? I am a killer, and no ability of yours would ever stop that." He thought for a moment, then added, "Though I never expected you'd go that far. I'm impressed. And seriously tempted, so watch out for your forehead."

There was a longer silence this time, and Peter thought he was gone before his voice came back over the microphone once more. "Oh, and I'd sit down if I were you. I'm altering their memory to put the blame on you for Jacob Reddon's death. Hope you don't mind."

"Course not." Peter growled bitterly. He sat down, resigned to his fate.

He heard a faint chuckle, and then, "Well, you and I both know that you could get out of here if you wanted. But there are a few people on this side, so I'd suggest not nuking it. You might be able to survive, but I doubt the same is true for them. Telekinesis might work. Oh, no it won't. I fixed the glass so that it lets out a bit of sealed radiation if you break it. Little trick I've been working on, works pretty well. Well, it sucks to be you, but other than that…"

Peter's eyes narrowed hatefully. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What do they remember about you?"

"What? The man who was stabbed with the scissors but somehow got off of the autopsy tables? You think I'd let them remember that? You insult me!"

Peter rolled his eyes. "I mean, am I going to get blamed for your murder as well?" He bit out.

"Oh. That. No. I never existed, apparently." He laughed. "Handy little ability, this. Wish I found out about it years ago; those FBI idiots would never have been on my back, and I wouldn't have my name plastered on a million websites. Ah, well. Live and learn."

And then he was gone. Anthony DiNozzo started questioning Peter again, but he kept his temper in check. As far as the world knew, Peter Petrelli was a murderer.

* * *

"Abigail Sciuto?" The man looked in the hospital room.

Abby smiled weakly, then looked at him in shock. "You!" She breathed.

The man who had once attacked her with a pair of scissors smiled. "Yes. Me."

And the world turned black.

* * *

"He keeps saying he's innocent." Tony thought out loud.

"He's a liar." Ziva replied.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, thank you for that wonderful bit of advice which simplifies everything." He snorted, once more thinking about Jacob Redden, and, more importantly, his 'family friend', Katie.

"Katie really wanted to tell me something." He said, frustrated. "But they stopped her…" he bit his lip thoughtfully. "It just doesn't add up…" he whispered.

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Was she cute?"

Tony looked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. Did you think she was cute?"

Tony saw where this was going, but answered anyway. "Well, yeah, sort of…"

"Mystery solved!" Ziva said sarcastically. "You thought she was cute and want an excuse to go back and talk to her." She snorted.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Ha ha. You're a bundle of laughs, aren't you?" but he ignored all further comments.

Because Katie _did _know something. He was sure of it.

* * *

"Hi. I think you remember me?"

Katie smiled dryly. "Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. How could I forget?"

"Yes, well, I was wondering if I could just ask you something…"

She looked panicked for a moment, motioning to the other room with her head. Tony got the idea, but pretended to act dumb.

"Listen, I was wondering if you'd… ah…" he looked down at his feet, as though embarrassed.

"What?"

"Would you like… to go out with me? Tomorrow night?"

She looked at him in absolute confusion.

Tony winked at her and gestured vaguely to the other room, where he guessed Brock was listening in.

Katie's puzzlement turned to understanding in a split second, and then into sheer joy.

She nodded quickly. "Um, yeah! Yeah, sure."

He smiled widely. "Sounds great! There's this nice little restaurant and everything, and… yea… I'll pick you up?"

She smiled. "Sure. Why not?"

"Ok, so… eight o'clock?"

She nodded again, and he smiled. "Great. See you then?"

"Yeah. See you. Oh, um, my number! You might, you know, need it." She blushed.

He smiled kindly and she ran inside, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. She hurriedly scribbled something on it before handing it to him.

She grinned. "See you tomorrow, I guess…"

He chuckled. "See you tomorrow." He started walking to the car.

He didn't look at the paper until he was in the car. On it was an actual phone number, but for once that wasn't what interested him.

It was the small sentence underneath it.

_His name is Sylar. _


	2. Prisoner

Peter sat back, his feet on the table and his hands behind his head, his chair tilting on two legs. They'd take him out of here eventually, and he'd be able to break out. He'd have to render a few men unconscious, but at this point he was desperate for an enemy that he could actually fight, an enemy that he could give a black eye, a person he could make bleed…

He tried to sit up so suddenly that he fell backwards. He hurried to his feet to face the young woman who had suddenly appeared.

She was wearing a dark green dress, and had sad, brown eyes, sinking into black circles. Her long blonde hair clung miserably to her face, and dripped water onto the floor.

"Anna!" Peter's eyes were wide.

She looked at him for a long time. "I suppose." She said quietly.

Peter went to her side immediately, wishing that he could touch her, comfort her, but knowing that his hand would simply pass through. "Are you all right?"

Anna Reddon didn't look at Peter for a long time. "It's happening. And she will not be here." Her voice echoed around him, and Peter felt his heart lurch. She sounded so _sad. _

"Katie?" He asked softly.

She turned to face him at last.

"Allison knows of the future's past." She whispered carefully. "You must find her, Peter."

He tried to speak, but she cut him off.

"I don't have much time." She said desperately. "The world is falling, and I can not hold on much longer. Katie will not witness this. She will be speaking to the one person who will listen, the one person who must listen. She will not be there, in the end." Her heartbroken eyes locked on his. "In my end."

Peter's breath caught in his throat. "Oh, Anna…"

She cut him off again. "It was to be expected, Peter Petrelli. I was always meant to die." She sighed heavily. "Though I will not deny I would have liked Katie to be there." There was silence for another moment, then Anna spoke again.

"It is for the best." She said firmly. "Katie will be talking to the only one who will listen. Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS."

"That idiot?" Peter asked incredulously. "You've got to be _kidding…_"

Anna shot a look at him, and his words died down. "He's the only one who will try. The only one who will help. And you'll need all the help you can get." She sighed heavily. "Allison will not come quietly."

There was silence again, and Anna took in a harsh, ragged breath suddenly.

"It…It's time." She chocked.

And disappeared.

* * *

Katie chewed her nails nervously as Tony sat down across from her.

He chuckled. "Relax. There's no one here."

She glared at him. "You don't live in my world, Anthony."

He smiled. "Call me Tony. And I didn't see anyone…"

"Of course you didn't!" She hissed, keeping her voice quiet. "They sent the invisibles, like they always do!"

"Invisibles? What, some kind of spy group?"

She looked at him pityingly. "Of course. You could never understand." She sighed heavily.

He came closer to her. "Katie, I need to know. Who is Sylar?"

"The man who killed Jacob Reddon." She replied quickly, as though afraid she'd be stopped.

Tony sat back, puzzled. "But… we have the man who killed Jacob. Peter Petrelli."

Her eyes widened. "Aw, _shit!_" She swore. "You have Peter?"

"Yes! He confessed to the murder and everything!"

"No, you just _think _he confessed." She corrected irritably. "Peter Petrelli did nothing wrong. There's no reason!"

"From what he said, there was. Some old girlfriend or something. Some… Allison."

Katie froze, her face turning white. "A-Allison? He… he knows of Allison?"

Tony looked at her, more confused than ever. "Yes. Peter killed Jacob because of some girl named Allison."

"She is not 'some girl.'" Katie growled dangerously.

Tony looked at her, surprised by the ferocity in her eyes.

She stood suddenly. "I need to speak with Peter Petrelli."

At that exact moment, Katie's phone rang. Exasperated, she pulled it out of her pocket. "Yes?" She asked through clenched teeth.

What little color that was in her face left it. "What?"

She swallowed. "I'll be there." She replied, her voice barely a whisper. She closed the phone and looked at Tony.

"Anna Reddon is dead."

* * *

Brock smirked at Katie as she entered the house.

Katie refused to look at him, instead walking into the other room where Anna's body was lying.

Katie could not stop the tears, though she had known this day would come for a long time.

"Not so brave now that your little telepathic bodyguard is gone, eh?" Brock asked nastily, having followed her from the other room.

Katie considered punching him, but decided that her fist didn't deserve the torture of touching him.

She kept her eyes on Anna's lifeless form. "I believe that our agreement is over." She whispered softly. "All of those in the Reddon family are dead." She turned to face him. "So get out of my house."

Brock smirked. "I think you're forgetting a certain young girl named Allison…"

Her eyes flickered up to his face. "Oh, I'm not."

He backed away, stumbling slightly. Her brown eyes were slowly turning amber, and her skin was starting to glow.

She looked at her hand, which lit on fire. She smiled hatefully at him. "Now, Brock. I'm going to do something I should have done a long time ago." Her now-amber eyes narrowed. "I am going to barbeque you, you son of a bitch."

Brock stumbled back again, falling to the floor. "You can't!" He cried, somewhat weakly. "Allison!"

She looked from her flaming hand to his face. She knelt down next to him so that she was at eye level, the fire right next to him. He could feel the heat pulsating in waves across his skin. "And that's why. You took my daughter away from me."

* * *

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

Gibbs looked at the girl in disbelief. She'd simply marched up to him and asked to see Peter Petrelli. She'd had the documents she needed, but her answers left something to be desired.

"Then I can't let you see him." He replied.

"You must." She replied, walking past him.

"Tell me why you need to see him." Gibbs ordered once more.

"No." She replied. "He's this way, correct?" She gestured to a door.

Gibbs sighed heavily and took her to see Peter.

* * *

Peter sat up straight as the woman walked in. She glanced around calculatingly.

"Interesting." She said. "This cell is no match for what you can do." She turned to face him. "And yet you stay. Why?"

His eyes narrowed.

She sighed, then pulled the collar on her shirt, revealing two small marks on her neck.

Peter's eyes widened. He nodded slowly. "He's stopping me." He growled.

"Sylar?" She questioned. He nodded.

She sat down. "Interesting."

There was silence for a long time, in which she pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, showing a tattoo below her wrist. "They caught me, too." She whispered carefully. "But I got away." Her eyes lit up with triumph.

His eyes narrowed. "What do you… you know…"

She raised an eyebrow and pulled a pen from her pocket. She handed it too him, and it changed into a pencil, then a paper.

Peter looked at her, shocked. "Candace?" He asked.

She looked down awkwardly. "Erm… no. Candace has been… well…" She slowly traced a line on her forehead. "Sylarfied."

Peter's eyes darkened.

She nodded, changing the subject quickly. "I'm Jane. Well, now I'm Jane. It's been a long time since I used my real name." She sighed.

Peter looked at her. "Do you know where Allison is?"

She looked at him, her black eyes cold and calculating. "You'd be surprised at the things I know, Peter." She sighed heavily and stood. "And the things you'll know if you look hard enough."

She placed her hand on his arm, and slowly, a tattoo identical to hers spread out just underneath his wrist.

"Get out of here." She whispered. "Katie snapped, and I don't think there's any one else who can stop her."

Peter was on his feet in a second. "Katie…?" his eyes were wide with fear.

"Brock is dead if you don't stop her." Jane continued in a hushed voice. "Now get out of here!"

"I can't!"

"You can." She replied. "Knock me out."

His eyes widened as he realized. He nodded slowly.

She grinned.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded.

Peter Petrelli's fist connected lightly with Jane's face. Years of acting like someone she wasn't perfected her skill, and she collapsed to the ground. Peter raced out of the still-open door, knocking everyone over as he went.

He nearly made it. But Gibbs wasn't an amateur. As Peter burst through the door, he found himself facing the barrel of a gun.

"You don't understand." He croaked out.

"I don't care." Gibbs replied coldly. "You are a killer. That's all I need to know."

"I'm not what you think!" Peter replied, exasperated. He heard people scrambling after him, getting closer and closer…

"Shoot me." He said suddenly.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me!" Peter shouted. "Shoot me! Kill me! See if it works! Go ahead!"

Gibbs looked at him with wide eyes.

Peter was quick. He grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger, aiming it at his chest.

He stumbled backwards, trying to catch his breath. Gibbs looked at him in absolute shock.

Peter Petrelli stood up straight, closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath.

The bullet, still covered in blood, clattered to the floor.

Gibbs took a step back, swearing softly.

"Sorry about this." Peter said genuinely.

And he ran.

* * *

Abby blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the haze of pictures in front of her.

She winced, her head throbbing painfully.

She looked around. "Am I tied to a chair?" She asked out loud. "That is _so _lame. How many movies…"

She never got to finish. A hand clamped itself over her mouth. "Do you ever shut up?"

Abby recognized the voice of her attacker and felt the blood rush from her face. This brought on a wave of dizziness, as she'd already lost a significant amount of blood.

"Hold still." The voice said again. Abby did as told, though she was unsure how she could do otherwise.

She looked around, suddenly aware of a stinging pain in her arm. She looked at it, the swallowed. It was attached to an IV, and a crimson liquid was flowing through it, into her arm…

Or out of her arm.

Abby decided it was time to struggle.

"Hold _still!_" the voice repeated. Abby ignored it until the hand forcibly held her arm.

"I'm trying to help you!" The man told her, exasperated.

For some reason, Abby didn't believe him.

"I tried to do this the easy way!"

Abby screamed as searing pain flashed through her head. She couldn't catch her breath, as she realized there was more pain than that in her forehead. It was as though a hand was wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life out of her, and yet there was no hand there…

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. It was reduced to a dull, throbbing ache, then, slowly, nothing at all.

Abby opened her eyes again. The pain was gone. The blood was still on her face, but there was nothing else. It just didn't hurt anymore.

She was finally able to see through the haze as it slowly cleared. And she saw the smiling, dark form of the man who had attacked her with a pair of scissors.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

She glared at him. "Who are you?"

He ignored her, taking something from the table next to her. "Here. Thought you'd want this."

It was a large soda. He smiled as he gave it to her, and the ropes around her snapped.

She eyed the drink warily.

"Don't know how you can stand this stuff." The man said with distaste. "I mean, I don't mind sugar, but this will make your heart stop."

Abby looked at it, still suspicious.

He noticed her expression and laughed. "Believe me, kid. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need poison."

She looked at him, disbelief etched into her face.

He sighed, placed his lips on the straw, took a quick drink, then handed it to her again. "Satisfied?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to touch that now?"

He chuckled, pulled the straw out of the cup, and switched it with a different one. "What about now?"

She shook her head.

He sighed heavily. "Trust me, Abby. You're going to need it."

She swallowed, and gently took the drink from him, placing her lips on the straw.

He smiled. "Good girl."

Her eyes narrowed.

He smirked. "I'm Sylar, by the way." He extended a hand.

She shook it tentatively, but seeing as he already knew her name she didn't offer it, instead keeping her lips glued to the straw.

"I'm really sorry about all this." He told her. "Truly, I am."

"If you were sorry, you'd let me go." Abby pointed out.

He grinned. "Possibly." He walked up next to her, gently stroking her forehead. She winced, but it wasn't painful, as she'd thought it would be.

"Completely healed." He informed her. "Well, that was easy enough."

She looked at him, confused by his words but not wanting him to know that.

He chuckled, obviously guessing what she was thinking by the look on her face. He held out an arm and pointed a finger at it. Slowly, his skin began to slit apart, following a line that his finger was tracing. Blood poured from the wound.

Abby looked at it in absolute shock as, slowly, it began to heal itself. After a moment, it disappeared entirely. The only evidence that it had ever been there in the first place was the blood that was still on his arm.

She gasped quietly. "How…?"

He smiled at her shock. "Let's just say I'm special that way." He replied. "Gave you a transfusion of my blood; fixed up your forehead." He sighed softly. "Unfortunately for you, that means I can do… pretty much whatever I want, and you won't _die."_

Abby swallowed as she realized the meaning of his words. Her drink slowly lowered from her lips and rested into her lap. _Torture. _Effective, painful, and terrifying.

He seemed to notice her expression, as his face softened slightly. "I said I was sorry for this, Abby. But I have to do this."

"For your stupid fingerprints?" She asked miserably.

He chuckled. "No, not those anymore." He pulled a chair up next to hers. "You see, I erased everyone else's memory of me, and snatched what little you had on my fingerprints. Wiped them off Jacob's neck, too, if you're wondering."

She bit her lip. "Then what?"

He smiled. "Because I erased _your _memory as well. And yet, you still remembered me." He looked at her, interested. "So, either you have an ability, and this can end quickly, or there's something else going on."

She looked at him, starting to panic, but trying to keep herself calm. "What do you mean, 'ability'?"

He came up next to her, taking her chin in his hands and forcing her to look him in the eye. "You really don't know, do you?" He asked softly. "You never knew about abilities?"

She tried to shake her head.

He sighed heavily. "Then this is going to take a long time. I'm going to have to figure this out before I can kill you."

She suppressed a whimper.

He sighed again. "Abilities are often triggered by survival instinct, so I'm going to have to set off that instinct. Sorry."

"No you're not." Despite the bravery in her words, Abby's voice cracked slightly.

He chuckled softly. "Would it make you feel better if I said I wasn't?"

"Kinda." It was the truth. Abby would rather believe him to be an absolute monster.

He smiled. "Then I'm not."

She swallowed once more, and he released her chin from his hand. She sat back, waiting for something horrible to happen.

He noticed her expression. "Calm down, Abbs."

Fire burned in her eyes. This man was going to hurt her anyway; why not let out her anger? "Do not call me Abbs. Gibbs calls me Abbs. Tony calls me Abbs. McGee calls me Abbs. Ducky calls me Abbs." Her eyes darkened. "They are my friends. _They _are the only ones who can call me Abbs. _You _are _not _my _friend._"

He chuckled, despite her obvious fury. "Very well, _Abby._ But it would still be better for both of us if you calmed down. I'm not going to hurt you, not yet. I figured we'd try the easy way first."

She laughed without humor. "Funny, because I thought torture _was _the easy way for you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Funnily enough, it _is. _However, I figured a change of pace might be nice for once." He shrugged and gestured to her drink. "Why don't you finish that? Just… relax. I promise, I won't hurt you. Not today."

Abby looked out the window. "What day?"

It was true. The sun was already setting.

He looked at her, curious. "It's strange, really. You seem almost eager for this."

Her eyes locked on his. "I want it to be over." She whispered softly.

He was suddenly at her side. "I know, I know." His words were obviously meant to be comforting, but they failed miserably.

She shoved him back. "Why do you even _care?_" She demanded furiously. "You're going to kill me, you said so yourself! Why don't you just _get it over with?"_

Sylar opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, as though he was suddenly remembering that fact.

_You're being protected. _

Abby tried not to betray her shock as the voice whispered in her mind.

_By who? _She asked back.

There was a pause before the voice replied, obviously unheard by Sylar. _By me. My name is Allison. _


	3. Hallucination

Peter raced through the door. "Katie, don't!"

Katie froze. Her hands were blazing with fire, and Brock had a few extra burns on his face. He was on the floor, his teeth clenched in pain.

Katie swallowed. Her eyes were glowing, a strange, brilliant amber. Her skin seemed to be smoldering softly as well, but it was nothing compared to the incredible blaze dancing on her fingertips.

"Katie…" Peter raised his hands carefully, showing her he was no danger. "Don't do this. He isn't worth it."

"No, he isn't." She replied confidently. "But he has my daughter, Peter. And he's going to tell me where she is."

"There are other ways to do this, Katie. You don't have to hurt anyone. She wouldn't want you to…"

Katie whirled on him. "Do not tell me what my daughter would or would not want me to do!" She shrieked. "She isn't here, Peter, and it's _his fault!" _She aimed a blast of fire at Brock, who ducked as it came towards him.

Peter walked slowly towards her. "Katie, please. Just calm down."

* * *

"How're you feeling, Allison?"

Allison looked at the thick glass, her soft brown eyes watching everything carefully. "Very well. And you?"

The woman on the other side replied, "I'm just fine, sweetie. Have any more of those dreams?"

Allison sighed softly, shaking her head. "I'm afraid not."

"You'll tell me if you do, right?"

Allison smiled slightly. "Of course, Olivia. I always have before, have I not?"

The woman chuckled. "Well, I know you do. But you know, tiny, I have my orders…"

"You must ask me." Allison said confidently, her smile slightly more ironic as it grew. "Hasn't this always been the way?"

Olivia smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it has."

There was silence for a moment as Olivia maneuvered to the door, pushing some food through the slot.

"I put a little chocolate on it for you." Olivia said at last. "I know how much you love your sugar." She smiled, but Allison knew it was forced.

Allison smiled back genuinely. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, hon."

And Olivia left.

Allison lifted her tray onto the small bed. There wasn't much, but the chocolate was defiantly something to look forward to. She took the candy bar and hid it carefully under her pillow.

She ate slowly. Food was the most exciting thing that happened in this cage; anything else had to be created by the person being contained. She knew of a telekinetic a few cells over who threw his bed at the glass whenever he was bored, though he knew it would do nothing.

As Allison ate, she thought about Olivia. Her orders had always been to get on Allison's good side, to make her feel welcome, at home. As though this was a playground instead of a prison. But Olivia was a decent person; it was only so long before she developed real emotions for Allison. Anyone would. Allison watched with a calculated interest as Olivia struggled with her conscience.

Allison was interested in the depth of Olivia's mind. She was constantly torn with indecision. She was a human, and she should see all heroes as a threat. But it was hard to see Allison, a mere child, imprisoned as she was. Olivia had no children of her own, but that did not mean she didn't care for others.

Her knowledge of Allison's past enforced this problem. She had never known her mother, a pyrokenist named Katie. She had been taken away as a baby, locked in this cage for her entire life. As far as Olivia knew, Allison had no memory of the open air, no thoughts of sunlight.

However, Olivia was wrong. Allison remembered freedom. She remembered the sun, she knew of snow, how the cold stung her face. She remembered the open air, and seeing nothing for miles and miles.

Unlike many people, Allison was completely aware of what was around her when she was only months old. She knew how to hear, how to understand, even how to speak. But she always kept this information to herself. Not even her mother knew.

Allison briefly toyed with the idea of telling Olivia of this, to ease her battling conscience, if only slightly. But it could not, and must not be done. If it was, the humans would know the further extents of Allison's abilities.

And would believe her too powerful to be kept alive.

But, at this moment, that didn't matter. Allison took a deep breath and focused on a place far away, where a serial killer was keeping a woman named Abigail Sciuto prisoner…

* * *

Abby felt slightly better knowing that someone was 'protecting' her from this killer. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, but the idea was helpful nonetheless.

Sylar hadn't spoken to Abby for a long time. He was still there, sitting across from her, but he wasn't saying a word. It had gotten dark a long time ago, and they couldn't really see each other, but Abby could hear his breathing, could see his vague outline.

"So…" She said conversationally. Her fear had ebbed slightly as it was replaced with exhaustion. But she didn't dare sleep. "What are you? I mean, like, are you a vampire or something? Because that would be so cool…" She started rambling, only trailing off when she heard Sylar chuckle.

"No." He told her, his voice soft. "No, I'm not a vampire."

"Ok, so… werewolf?"

"No."

"Secret government test project?"

"No."

"Alien?"

He laughed. "You wish."

It was actually the truth. It would be easier to believe that only aliens, werewolves, or vampires were capable of this kind of evil. "Then… what?"

He sighed heavily. "I'm… well, it all depends on who you ask."

Abby curled up into a ball on her chair, wrapping her arms around her legs and placing her chin into her knees. "I'm listening."

He chuckled softly. "Of course you are." He continued to laugh quietly for a minute. Finally, he spoke again. "Some people call us 'heroes.' Others see us as 'special people' or 'those with abilities.'" He sighed again. "But, basically, we're human. With something extra. Some have telekinesis. Others have telepathy. Some can control flame, others water or wind or earth. Some can breathe underwater, or can fly. Some can heal themselves in seconds, and still others can tell when someone is lying. Some can shoot electricity. Some are radioactive. It all depends on the person."

Abby looked at his vague shadow for a moment before speaking again. "And what are you? What do you do?"

He looked at her. She could see his eyes glinting in the soft, barely-existent moonlight. "I know how things work."

Abby thought about this for a moment. "But that makes no sense. That's not a very threatening ability; and I've seen you heal, and use telekinesis, before."

He chuckled. "You know, most people are too shocked or horrified to try making sense of it."

She looked at him in the dark. "I'm not most people. And you're changing the subject."

"Think about it, Abby. I know how things work. So I know how _people _work."

She did think about it. She thought about it for a long time. "So… you see people, and you know how their ability works?" She asked, taking a drink of her soda to suppress the headache that was slowly emerging.

He sighed. "The problem with you, Abby, is that you always think the best of people. No, it's a little more… invasive than that. And painful. At least for them."

Abby thought for a minute, and slowly, it dawned on her. "You have to see their _brains._" She whispered. "That's why you cut the top of Jacob's head off! You needed to see his brain!" her disgust was mingled with her natural curiosity.

He nodded. "Of course."

"That's…" She looked down. "Horrible." Suddenly, her eyes flashed up to his face, or where his face would be. "So that's what you meant. If I had an ability. You said this could finish quickly…" She felt her insides twist uncomfortably as she realized how close she was to sharing Jacob Reddon's fate.

"Yes." He replied coldly.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

_I won't let that happen, Abby. _She heard the small voice of Allison enter her mind once more. _I promise. I won't let you die._

_Thank you. _Abby felt herself thinking back, hope making her calm down slightly.

Sylar looked at her curiously, though his expression was hard to see in the darkness. "Interesting."

"What?"

"Your heart. It's slowed down."

"How do you…?"

"I can hear it." He explained before she could ask.

There was silence for a minute.

Finally, Sylar sighed and stood up. "It's late." He said. "You should get some sleep."

Abby looked at him in disbelief, but decided it was best not to argue. Sylar held out his hand, and Abby took it. He led her into a different room, where a small bed was waiting.

"Good night." He said as she walked in. He closed the door before she could reply.

She sighed heavily. There was absolute silence for the better part of an hour, broken only by Sylar's feet shuffling outside, or his soft breathing as he stood outside her door. Apparently, he didn't trust her, and had no need for sleep.

Abby stared out at the darkness, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

But there was really only one person with the answers.

She took a deep breath, unsure if this would work, but having to try.

_Allison? _She thought.

_I'm here. _The reply came back after a moment. This time, Abby listened carefully to how she spoke. Her voice was soft and ethereal, almost as though she could not exist at all.

_Why couldn't Sylar erase my memories? _It was the biggest question on her mind. If he'd been able to, Abby wouldn't be here in the first place.

_I said you were being protected. _Her words were completely devoid of any emotion.

_You did that? _

_Yes_.

_How?_

_How is Sylar telekinetic? How can he know how anything and everything works? _

_You have an ability. _Abby was confident of this statement.

_Yes._

Abby thought for a moment, before asking hesitantly, _Do I have one?_

There was silence for a long time.

_Allison? _Abby asked after a while, worried that she might have left.

_I'm here._

_Do I?_

This time, she distinctly heard a deep sigh. _I can not tell you this. _

_Why not?_

_Abby, what I'm going to say will be hard for you to accept. Please understand._

_I'm… I'm listening._

_I want to protect you. I truly do. And it will happen; Sylar will not and must not kill you. However…_

_Yes…? _Abby felt her heart skip a beat.

_I can not stop him from hurting you. He wants information, and all I can do is give his mind subtle suggestions that he doesn't want to torture you. Not yet, at least. But these suggestions will not last forever; if I tried he would begin to question them, and realize that I'm there. At that point, he would not hesitate to kill you. _

Abby thought about this, and there was silence for a long time. _So… at some point, he's going to have to torture me? _Had she been speaking out loud, her voice would have been shaking.

_I'm so sorry. _It was confirmation enough, but Allison elaborated. _I will delay it as long as I can, and he will not kill you. But this is why you mustn't know if you have an ability. No one could withhold information from Sylar when they know it. _

Abby swallowed, trying to calm down.

"Abby?"

She jumped and nearly screamed as Sylar's voice came to her ears. She sat up as the killer came next to her.

He gently placed a hand on her cheek. "I thought you were asleep." Concern filled his voice. "I was getting worried. Your heart is going crazy."

Abby flinched inwardly. She'd already forgotten about that particular talent. "I'm fine." She whispered.

He looked at her for a long time.

_Allison?_

_Yes?_

_Is he really concerned, or is he just faking it? Or, better yet, are you making him think he cares?_

_Well, I won't say he actually _cares, _but he is somewhat worried. He cares more about you than he does for most of his victims, but that could be because he's actually treating you like a human being. I've never seen anything like it in his past. It's fascinating, really._

_Fascinating. _Abby replied bitterly.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Sylar asked, bringing her back to the dark room around her.

She nodded.

He smiled softly, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. "All right. I'll see you in the morning?"

Abby shivered and nodded again.

Slowly, he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

_He's right, Abby. _Allison's voice came into her mind once more. _You should really get some sleep. _

_How can I?_

There was silence. _You want me to help you? _Allison asked at last.

_What do you mean?_

_I mean I can render you unconscious. _

_You mean knock me out?_

_Yes._

Abby smiled sadly, chuckling to herself. _Sure. Why not._

_Good night, Abby._

_Good night, Allison. _

Abby closed her eyes and knew no more.

* * *

Katie looked from Brock, to Peter, to Brock again.

"I will not calm down…" She replied slowly. "Until this bastard gives me my daughter back."

Peter looked at Brock. "Tell us where Allison is." He ordered.

"Never."

Katie's amber eyes narrowed hatefully. "You won't be saying that when I'm done with you!" She retorted, the fire on her hands suddenly burning more fiercely. Her hands came down, towards his face…

Peter caught her arm. "No, Katie! You aren't _him!"_

Everyone in the room froze. They all knew who he was talking about. Someone Katie had met before. Someone who terrified hero and human alike.

Sylar.

"At least _he _knew how to get the information he needed." She spat.

"But he was a monster." Peter's voice had gotten soft. "You're better than that." His eyes locked on hers.

She looked at him for a long time before replying. "There are some lines a mother will cross to get her daughter back."

"Katie, she wouldn't want you to become a killer…"

"How do you know that?" She demanded in a shriek. "She _isn't here! _My baby is _gone, _do you hear me? _**Gone! **_And it's because of _him!_" A blast of red flame launched from her hand and landed in Brock's chest, exploding around him for a brief second before disappearing.

"Katie, you know as well as I do that he deserves everything you could possibly do to him." Peter said. "But that doesn't mean you _should._"

There was silence for a long time.

Slowly, the flames began to die down. The amber in Katie's eyes died down, returning to mere flecks as they darkened into brown. She took a deep breath, and tears flowed down her face.

"Very well." She said at last, her words calculated and slow. "We'll do it your way."

She looked at Brock and, without hesitation, punched him in the face, knocking him out.

"But if we can't find her," She continued. "Then I _will _find him again. And I _will _cross that line."

Peter nodded slowly.

She walked out of the room without looking at Brock or Peter. "Let's go."

Peter followed her into the other room.

Katie had opened the front door, and was frozen in the door frame. Curious, Peter came up next to her.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo looked back at them, shock evident on his face.

"Tony!" Katie exclaimed, equally caught off guard. "What are you…?"

"You're… you're _protecting _him?" Tony backed away from the door.

"No, Tony, you've got it all wrong, you don't understand…" Katie began pleading with him, her earlier anger forgotten.

"I don't _need _to understand!" Tony shot back, his gun in his hand before anyone could blink. "Put your hands…"

"We don't have time for this." Peter whispered in Katie's ear. "We have to get Allison, _now._"

Katie nodded in understanding as Tony finished talking, unaware that both Katie and Peter had stopped listening. Katie's hand lit on fire. "Back away, Tony." She said softly.

Tony _did _back away, stumbling backwards and swearing. "What… how…?"

"There are bigger matters than just you!" She said. "Now put the gun _down._"

Tony looked at her, his eyes wide. "Who…?"

"Katie, _come on_." Peter whispered urgently, gently stepping around Katie. He walked past Tony, who pointed his gun at Peter.

Peter chuckled. "Go ahead, human. I've already been shot once today."

"Put your hands on your head, _now!_"

Peter just smirked.

"Tony…" Katie whispered. "Just let it go."

Tony brought the gun back to face her.

Peter was faster than most people gave him credit for. His hand clamped down on the gun, and it crumpled into a ball of metal, bits of it hanging off and falling to the ground.

"Come on, Katie." Peter said, walking past the now unarmed Tony.

Katie did as she was told, but not before shooting a concerned and apologetic look towards Tony.

"We have about a half an hour until it gets dark." Peter said as she came up next to him, Tony already forgotten. "After that, we won't have long to look."

Katie nodded. "We'll figure it out as we go." Already, her eyes were gaining a soft amber shade.

Tony stared after the two of them, the man who had been shot and could still destroy a gun with his bare hands, and the woman who could produce flame.

* * *

Gibbs looked at Tony as he sat down heavily in his seat.

There was silent for a moment before Tony asked, "Ever hallucinate, boss?"

Gibbs looked at Tony. Normally, he would have smacked him upside the head, but at this moment, he was beginning to wonder. "I'm not sure."

"I think I have." Tony didn't seem to hear his reply. "If I didn't have this, I would be sure of it." he pulled out a large ball of uneven metal.

Gibbs looked at it. "What is that, DiNozzo?"

"It _was _my gun." Tony replied. "Now, I'm not so sure."

This caught Gibbs' attention. "Your gun?" He asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice. If someone else was imagining someone doing something that no one could be able to do, then maybe he _wasn't _imagining it. Especially if it was...

"Yeah. Peter Petrelli did this." Tony rubbed his eyes. "At least, I _think _he did."

Gibbs looked at him. "What _exactly _happened, DiNozzo?"


	4. Fire, Ice, and Shadow

**A/N: Is the drink Abby always has called a Caf-Pow? I **_**think **_**it is. If I'm wrong, please tell me!**

"Abby? Time to wake up…"

Abby blinked, once, twice, and a final time. She looked around. Sylar was smiling at her.

"At last." He chuckled.

Abby sat up slowly, trying to remember everything that had happened the day before. She would have thought it was a dream if Sylar hadn't been there, still smiling as though they'd known each other their whole lives.

Sylar grinned and held something in front of Abby's eyes. "Got you something."

Abby let her eyes focus on the small object for a minute before she realized what it was. "Black?" She asked.

Sylar raised an eyebrow, handing her the small lipstick tube. "Wasn't too hard to figure out what you'd want." He replied. "From what I know, you don't like to go anywhere without it."

She looked at him, the killer who was bent on torturing her and yet still taking the time to deal with her makeup needs. "I _don't _go anywhere without it." She replied, pulling her own tube out of her pocket.

He smiled. "Ah. Of course."

Abby found herself smirking. It was a minor victory, but a victory nonetheless.

"Though I doubt you thought of this." He said calmly, pulling something else out of his pocket. It was a small bottle of nail polish, which, like the lipstick, was black.

Abby looked from the polish to her own nails, which still looked flawless. "I'm good."

His responding smile was a strange one; a smirk that was somehow apologetic at the same time. "When fingers re-grow, Abby, the nail polish doesn't normally grow with them." He placed the bottle on the small table next to her bed.

Her blood turned cold as she realized what this meant. She shivered, and he pretended not to notice.

"Come on." He said, holding out a hand.

"I'll… I'll be there in a minute." She replied.

He raised an eyebrow, but consented, leaving the room slowly.

Abby looked at the nail polish, wondering how it could look so ominous so suddenly. Where would she be in twelve hours? Twenty-four? Would she be back here, painting her fingers after they'd been cut off multiple times, trying to cover fresh wounds that would turn into scars? Would she even be in this room? Would she be lying on the floor, the top of her head severed and Sylar already far away? Would Gibbs be here, investigating her murder? Would he get pulled into this world of dangerous heroes and serial killers as well?

And then it hit her. _Gibbs._

_Abby… _Allison's voice had a note of warning to it.

_What?_

_I'm sorry… Gibbs doesn't know you exist. None of the NCIS agents do. Sylar altered their memories._

Abby's breath caught in her throat.

Sylar came in once more, only his head showing as he looked around the door. "Abby? Meet me in the kitchen when you're done, all right?"

Abby swallowed. "Sylar…?"

He looked at her. "Yes…?"

"What… what did you do about… Gibbs? And Tony? And McGee?" Her voice shook with each name. "What about Ziva? And Ducky?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Did you… make them forget me?" Tears were forming in Abby's eyes. There had been one moment, one perfect moment, when she'd thought that Gibbs was going to bust the door down, gun in hand, and save her. But if they didn't remember her…

He nodded. "I thought that much was obvious." He replied. "Sorry, I thought you'd have figured that out by now." He shrugged.

Abby choked as he walked out again.

_Calm down, Abby. _Allison's voice came again. _It's only temporary. They'll remember you once I get you out of here._

Abby didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think.

Slowly, she sat up, tying her hair into pigtails and putting on a generous amount of black lipstick. At this point, she'd feel better with a lab coat, but there wasn't one. Just a black shirt and black jeans.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. This would end, eventually. The nightmare would be over.

She just hoped it would happen quickly.

She walked out of the room carefully, as though each move could shatter her like glass.

She tried a few rooms before she finally found the one that must be the kitchen. Sylar smiled at her. Abby hadn't thought she could hate a smile, but she was steadily growing an aversion to his.

He gestured to a table, two chairs standing next to it. Abby sat down grudgingly.

"Pancakes?" He asked, sliding a plate towards her. Thick, dark syrup drizzled down the sides of two flat pancakes. Abby glowered at them as Sylar sat down across from her with his own plate.

"Got you a Caf-Pow, too." He told her, pushing the large drink towards her.

Abby looked at both the drink and the pancakes, then sat back and crossed her arms.

Sylar, who had already started cutting into his pancakes, looked at her. He sighed heavily. "I've already told you. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need poison."

Abby glared at him. "There are other things that can be put in food than just poison."

He sighed again, stabbed his fork into her pancake, and ripped off a piece. "Don't make me do this again." He said, holding the fork in front of his mouth.

"It won't matter anyway. You can heal."

He smiled softly. "Look, Abby, if you wanted to starve yourself, you could have just said so." He reached over the table to take her plate.

Abby snatched it back from him.

He chuckled.

_It's ok, Abby. I've been watching him all morning. He didn't put anything in the food. _Allison sounded confident.

_Thanks. _Abby replied softly. She looked at the pancakes for a minute before turning instead to the Caf-Pow.

"There you go." Sylar said approvingly. "Have a little trust."

Abby glared daggers at him, but kept her lips on the straw.

* * *

"_Somebody restrain her!"_

_"Where is she? Where is my daughter?"_

_Flames flickered and danced. Katie emerged from the blaze like a nightmare, her eyes a brilliant amber and her hair as bright red as any of the flames on her hands. _

_"Bring her down!" Another voice called. The person was thrown sideways as Peter Petrelli came up next to Katie._

_"__**Where is my daughter?**_**" **_The fire burned white-hot as Katie's fury intensified. There was nothing human in her now. _

Allison had been monitoring the situation carefully for quite a while now.

"So that's where we end up." She whispered softly, her eyes unfocused as she stared into the depths of the future.

"Allison? Sweetie?"

Allison's eyes rapidly focused. "Yes, Olivia?"

Olivia looked worried. "Having those dreams again?"

Allison knew she would be unable to deny it. "Yes." She replied, keeping her voice cool and emotionless.

"What was it this time?"

"Trivial things." Allison lied smoothly. "A man with grey hair. A ball of metal that used to be a gun. And four letters." She looked directly at Olivia. "NCIS."

* * *

Abby looked around, trying to find Sylar.

She looked down, trying to concentrate. This was his idea of triggering the survival instinct; an attack.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she saw through a red haze.

"Sylar!" The voice speaking the words was not her own, though the words were coming through her lips. The voice shook with hatred and fury. "Come and face me _now, _you coward!"

Abby looked at her hands, hands that were far too tan to be her own. Fire was suddenly blazing on them, burning fiercely.

"Fascinating." Sylar's voice drifted to her ears. "Pyrokenisis."

Through the red mist clouding her eyes, Abby saw the killer emerge from the shadows.

"So you are a hero." He continued.

Abby could see blood pouring down her arms, but the red haze of fury and flame kept her from feeling any pain.

And yet… this wasn't _her. _This had to be someone else; it felt wrong, out of place. But she was seeing through these eyes, through this red haze, her hands on fire and the flames obeying her commands.

She felt her eyes narrow as Sylar came towards her, his hands sparkling with electricity.

"It's too bad, really." He said softly. "I almost wish you were human."

The electricity launched itself at her. Abby retaliated, fire colliding with the electricity and dancing around the sides, aiming for Sylar…

Sylar fell backwards, taken off guard by the ferocity of the attack.

Abby stood over him, hatred blazing in her veins, brighter and hotter than the flames around her.

Sylar looked at her, almost… afraid. Abby smirked. This man had done so much to her, had betrayed her, had hurt her…

But he hadn't. He hadn't hurt Abby, not yet. He's threatened, but never _hurt _her.

But memories of pain he'd caused, memories that were not her own, flooded to her mind.

Abby threw another blast into Sylar's face. When it cleared, she slammed his head into the ground, knocking him out. It would only last a few seconds; she had to run _now. _

Abby walked, with legs longer than they used to be, to the front door. As she walked down the hall, she passed a mirror…

Shock made her look back at it. Her hair was no longer black, or blonde, as her memories seemed to be telling her. It was a brilliant, blazing red. Her eyes were a bright, strange, wild amber.

The face was not Abby's either, though it seemed as though this _was _how her face was meant to be, that it was always like this. The face in the mirror smiled, then ran out the door.

Abby's eyes opened a second time. Nothing had changed; she was still waiting, still focused.

Sylar had said the survival instinct would trigger an ability. Mainly, fear. This memory suggested differently.

Abby took a deep breath, trying to remember what that hatred felt like, that loathing and rage that coursed through her like a flame…

She blinked. There was no red haze, but there was something else. Everything was perfect, absolutely clear. A shiver coursed through her, and her breath came out in an icy cloud.

Everything seemed to slow down. She hadn't expected to see Sylar's attack, but it was almost in slow motion as he ran towards her.

There was only one thought on her mind. Only one thing she could think.

_Never again._

Hatred that Abby had never known coursed through her, though it was nothing like the furious blaze that burned around her. This was different; more like ice that froze her blood. It seemed as trhough nothing could move.

"Never again." Abby whispered softly.

She lashed out suddenly. Sylar was right, instinct was taking over. She didn't think, she just _acted. _

And then it happened. Something crystal clear and sparkling started spreading across the floor.

Sylar's eyes widened as he raced across it, swearing as he slid slightly. His head collided with the wall for a brief second, but he recovered quickly.

Abby looked around in absolute shock as the ice spread up the walls. A smile spread across her face; she was unable to stop it.

So she _was _a hero.

Sylar looked equally dumbfounded. "Well. That was easier than I thought."

Abby wasn't listening. She looked at her hand, where a large chunk of ice was forming. Slowly, it grew, elongating into two points on each side. Soon, it was nearly as tall as she was.

She looked at it in wonder, then turned to look at Sylar.

Sylar sighed. "I'm sorry about this, Abby."

For once, Abby wasn't afraid. "So am I." She replied.

Sylar's hands sparkled with electricity, but Abby was expecting that, remembering the memory that was not hers.

The crackling energy came towards her, but Abby's eyes could now trace its path, follow it closely until…

With a burst of light, Abby struck the blast with the newly formed ice… whatever it was. Abby could only think of the word 'javelin.'

"That all?" She mocked.

Sylar was looking at her in amazement.

But it was all an act. Sylar lashed out, and some invisible force knocked her legs out from under her. Sylar was next to her in a split-second, smiling down at her.

Abby glowered at him.

And then everything changed.

Sylar gasped as he suddenly collapsed to the floor. Abby leapt to her feet, unaffected by the slippery ice.

"Wh-What did you d-d-do to me?" Sylar looked at her, stunned. The ground held him like a magnet; he couldn't stand. He could barely lift his face enough to speak.

But Abby saw it. For the first time since she'd met him, perhaps for the first time in his life, Sylar was afraid.

"To be honest, I have no idea." Abby smiled. "Isn't that great?"

She twirled her ice javelin around on her wrist, walking away from Sylar, still unable to move from the floor.

"You can't just…"

"I can do whatever I want." She told him coldly, not turning to face him.

"Abby!"

She stopped, and slowly turned around.

_Let him go, Abby. _Allison whispered softly. _I'll finish this._

_I don't know how. _Abby replied.

_Just relax. Let go. The ability will handle the rest._

Abby thought about this for a moment. Instead, she walked over to Sylar and held the javelin above his back.

_The back of his head. _Allison told her, understanding. _It's the only place that can kill him. _

Abby did as she was told.

"Was there anyone else?" She asked softly.

Sylar looked at her in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. Am I the first person this has happened to? Did you find out about other abilities this way?"

Sylar didn't reply.

"Answer me!"

"Yes!" Sylar spat out.

"How many?" Abby was furious. This had gone on for far too long.

"Only one." Sylar was clearly unwilling to part with this information, but Abby continued.

"And did they have an ability?"

"Yes."

"Which was?"

"Pyrokenisis. Creation and control of flame."

Abby looked at him for a long time. "What was their name?"

Sylar didn't answer.

"Well?"

Sylar swallowed. "Katie. Her name was Katie."

"And did you kill her?"

"No!"

This took Abby by surprise. "No? Why not?"

"She fought back!" Sylar replied weakly, his breath coming out in gasps as he tried to pry himself off the floor. "She fought back and I lost!"

Abby nodded once, taking the point of the ice away from his head and relaxing whatever grip she had on him. Slowly, Sylar began to stand up. Finally, he was back on his feet, looking at Abby. She could see the battle in his eyes; deciding whether or not he should attack again, whether or not he could win.

Abby looked back and, with perfect accuracy, hurled the javelin to a spot exactly two inches to Sylar's right. It didn't shatter; it stayed stuck in the wall.

Sylar seemed to understand the message. Abby smiled and walked out.

As she did, she passed the mirror that the person in her memory had passed. It had a crack in it, but it was still there.

Abby looked at it. There were no major changes, though her skin seemed to have frosted over slightly. She grinned at it, and left.

Sylar could never hurt her again. He didn't dare.

* * *

The young girl's brown eyes landed on Sylar's.

Sylar hurriedly backed away, running into the wall and cringing as he realized that there was no where else to go. He was trapped.

Allison smiled. "Don't worry, Sylar. I'm not really here."

Sylar let out a soft sigh of relief, though he knew that even the illusion of this five-year-old girl was incredibly powerful. "What do you want?" he said the words grudgingly, bitterly.

Allison's smile softened. "I want you to leave Abby alone."

Sylar's eyes widened even further. "You… you knew she was here?" His mouth felt suddenly dry.

"Yes."

"And you didn't stop me?" The thought seemed impossible. This was _Allison, _after all.

"I could not."

Sylar snorted. "The most powerful hero on the planet, and you couldn't _stop me?_ I find that hard to believe."

Allison raised an eyebrow. "I think I preferred it when you were too scared of me to _mock _me. It seems you've forgotten your place."

Sylar swallowed, the blood draining from his face.

"But, in answer to your question," Allison continued calmly. "I was unable to stop you because I was not supposed to. Abby learned of her abilities because of you, and, more importantly, she _met _you. Granted, the circumstances were hardly ideal, but it is important that she knows who you are."

"Why?" Sylar winced as he asked the question. Allison's eyes smoldered softly as they stared at him.

"You are not meant to know." She replied airily.

Sylar looked at Allison for a long time before asking, "And what, exactly, is Abby's ability?"

"Do you think it's wise for me to tell you?" Allison asked.

"You're the only one with the answer to that."

Allison arched an eyebrow. "I do not see the future, Sylar. I see paths the future can take." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Very well. It seems best for you to know. Abby is one of the few people on this planet with multiple abilities. You have seen two of three. Control of ice, obviously. But the one which seems to confuse you is the gravity control. Am I correct?"

Sylar nodded. "And the third?"

"Ah. Perhaps the most unique ability in the world. Abby is a Shadow Traveler."

What little color left in Sylar's face left it. "Impossible."

"I'm afraid not."

"But… Shadow Travelers are myths! Legends! They can't be real!"

"They are. It is a rare ability, of course, and even I have only ever met one. Not including Abby, naturally, but the point still stands…"

Sylar stumbled backwards, and, meeting only the wall, slid down the floor, thunderstruck.

Allison's eyes narrowed. "Remember, Sylar. You are not to hurt her."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Sylar said genuinely. There was no lie in his mind; Sylar was too terrified for his own life than to try and take Abby's ability.

"Very well, then. I believe this meeting is over."

And she disappeared.

Sylar shivered. There had only ever been one person in the world who had ever scared him. One person in the world who terrified him more than anything else ever had. That was Allison.

But now there was Abby.

Sylar hurriedly stood, turning on every light in the house. Wherever a patch of dark remained, he positioned a flashlight, a candle, any light source he could find onto the spot until the shadow had vanished.

Now, Sylar had good reason to be afraid of the dark.

* * *

Gibbs winced at the flash of pain in his head. A brief picture of a young girl with a tattoo on her neck and her black hair in ponytails blazed into his mind.

"Abby." He whispered.

"Sorry, boss?" Tony looked at him.

Gibbs didn't really hear him. His thoughts were on something else; on something he'd forgotten…

Or maybe some_one. _

"McGee!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"I need you to look someone up for me." Gibbs was unsure why he was doing this. But in this strange, different world where a man could get shot and still walk away, and a woman could produce flames that obeyed her commands, things seemed to have changed. He could never again ignore any kind of gut instinct.

"The name is Abigail Sciuto." He continued. McGee started typing.

"Any reason I'm doing this, boss?" he asked, his eyes glued to the compute screen.

"Because I told you to, McGee. DiNozzo! With me."

Tony obeyed as Gibbs got to his feet. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to see Anna Reddon."

"But… Boss, Anna Reddon is dead."

Gibbs froze. Slowly, he turned to face DiNozzo.

"Right." DiNozzo swallowed. "Sorry, boss."

Gibbs nodded once, and they turned to the elevator.

Gibbs' eyes popped as he saw a young girl. Her black hair was in ponytails. She had an enormous Caf-Pow in her hands, and there was a tattoo on her neck.

"GIBBS!" She screeched happily, throwing her arms around him, the Caf-Pow still in one hand. "You're here!" She sighed contentedly. "You would not _believe _the day I am having!"


	5. Shadow Traveler

The girl who introduced herself as 'Abby' had all the proof she needed to back up her insane story.

Gibbs watched her with fascination. It wasn't too great a shock to see her demolish object after object, freezing them with her bare hands and then shattering them with a single touch. Tony seemed relatively calmer about it as well, but McGee, Ziva, and Ducky wanted her to prove it over and over again. Abby obliged. Gibbs could see her gaining control steadily as she did so.

"But this is all impossible." Ziva said, staring at the frozen shatters of a glass that Abby had demolished. "I mean, erasing memories? A man who is telekinetic?"

"Peter Petrelli getting shot and not dying." Gibbs volunteered thoughtfully. "It all makes sense."

"Sense?" Ziva rounded on him. "It _can't _make sense, Gibbs! This… it's not…" She trailed off, speechless.

"It would explain Jacob Reddon's… condition." Ducky said sensibly.

"And the radioactivity I found on his clothes!" Abby added. The grin on her face hadn't disappeared once. She'd known everyone's names, had smiled at them even when they looked at her in complete and utter confusion.

"In fact, it explains everything." Ducky continued, looking at Ziva.

Ziva stared at them all. "This is…" She swallowed. "Hard to accept."

"Perhaps I can help in that respect." A voice whispered softly. All of the NCIS agents whirled around to face the newcomer.

It was a small girl. She had soft, brown eyes that were flecked with amber. Flaming red hair circled her face. Tony was instantly reminded of Katie.

"My name is Allison." She informed them. Everyone turned to Abby. She had told them about Allison's voice entering her mind.

"Y-You're Allison?" Abby asked, astonished.

Allison arched an eyebrow. "Do not underestimate children, Abby, for in our world it is a very dangerous thing to do. Sylar underestimated me the first time we met, and he has not forgotten that encounter."

Abby swallowed at the name 'Sylar', but said nothing.

Allison continued. "Now, I promised you that they would remember you. I am here so that I may keep my promise. Though, strictly speaking, I am not here. What you see is an illusion." She took a deep breath. "Gibbs, if you would please come here."

Gibbs stared at the little girl. She held herself with such authority that he found himself obeying.

She looked at him, her brown eyes narrowing, locking on his own.

Gibbs' breath caught in his throat. He couldn't move. Images and pictures flashed through his mind, memories of different times.

Memories of Abby.

He didn't know how long he stood there, his eyes locked on Allison's. All he knew was when it was over. He stumbled backwards, as though there had been something tying him to this girl that had been broken abruptly.

He looked around. Abby was looking at him expectantly, while the others watched warily.

Gibbs grinned and held out his arms.

Abby ran into them, jumping with excitement. "Gibbs!"

He laughed, and she laughed with him.

* * *

Every hint of shadow had been erased in this room. With the others, it had been much harder to do. But in here, with nothing to give off a shadow except Sylar himself, it seemed relatively safe to the serial killer. At least he'd have some warning; whoever or whatever materialized in the other room would have to come through the door to find him…

"Sylar?"

Sylar jumped. His heart started to speed up. He held his breath and remained as silent as possible until…

The door slowly opened. Sylar was right next to it, and, slowly, he crept behind it as someone entered the room.

"Sylar?"

Sylar slammed the door and the person cried out, fire dancing on her fingertips.

Sylar exhaled a sigh of relief. "Hello, Katie."

Katie looked at him and swallowed. The flames stayed on her fingers.

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "I see you kept the red-head look."

Katie bristled. "It never disappeared." She replied.

"And the eyes?"

"They change from time to time." Katie said, watching Sylar carefully with eyes were, for the moment, brown.

Sylar nodded slowly. "And why are you here?"

Katie swallowed. "I'm trying to find my daughter."

Sylar shivered involuntarily. "Allison?"

"Yes."

Sylar winced. "I figured you'd say that. I can't help you Katie. Even if I wanted to."

Katie raised an eyebrow; she looked exactly like Allison when she did that. "Oh?"

"Allison made me promise. And I'm not talking the normal kind; she linked me, telepathically. I tell you where she is and I'll die. Made sure I couldn't kill you, either, so you can get rid of that." He pointed at her flaming hand.

Katie looked at him, the flames dying. "Peter's outside anyway."

Sylar snorted; Katie would think he was lying. It almost made him wish he _was. _"Have you been made into such a coward that you have to let others fight your battles?"

Katie's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a _coward, _Sylar. Peter's out there so he can keep looking for Allison if I die."

Sylar glared back at her. "No worries. I can't kill you."

Katie smirked. "That's my little girl." The smirk grew into a proper smile. "She's alive." She breathed, sighing in relief.

Sylar glowered at her. "Yeah. Alive and well."

Katie looked at him. "Well?"

He nodded. "Well enough to try and terrorize me at every moment, at any rate."

* * *

Olivia looked through the glass.

"Allison? Are you all right?"

It took the small, powerful five-year-old girl a few moments to lift her head and look at Olivia. Her hair hung like a shimmering red curtain around her face, concealing most of it. What little Olivia could see clearly indicated that Allison wasn't exactly the picture of health.

Her skin was very pale, covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Her brown eyes were sunken into dark circles. They looked almost hollow. There was no life in her face.

She swallowed. The motion made Olivia wince, it looked so painful.

"I'm fine." Allison replied weakly. Her statement faltered as her eyes closed, and she nearly collapsed onto the floor.

"Allison!" Olivia exclaimed. She raced to the door, wanting to open it but knowing she could not; it could mean the end of humanity if this child escaped.

She heard Allison's rasping, wheezing cough and made the decision.

"I'm coming, sweetheart!" She called, yanking the key card out of her pocket and sliding it through the lock.

She ran into the room. Allison lay on the floor. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, and each breath sounded like a burden in her unconscious state.

Olivia ran to Allison's side, lifting the child's limp form off the ground. She yanked her radio out of her pocket and barked a few commands, then put it away and placed her hand on Allison's forehead. Heat seared through Olivia's hand.

"You're going to be all right, Allison. I promise. You're going to be all right…"

* * *

Allison had given back the memories of the NCIS teams their memories back before she had disappeared suddenly. Abby didn't mind; she figured Allison had something to take care of. She'd often disappeared entirely from Abby's thoughts before, after all.

It was a strange thing, being in this room with people who until recently had forgotten her entirely. Gibbs, Ducky, and McGee had flashes of memories every so often, but nothing concrete. Nothing like it was now.

"So you have an ability, eh Abbs?" Tony asked with a grin.

"Actually, I have three." Abby said, grinning back. "Allison told me on the way here. The ice thingy I showed you earlier, gravity control, and something called 'Shadow Travel'."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

As Abby talked and laughed with her friends, none of them thought to question the disappearance of the small girl who had given them their memories.

* * *

Olivia stood above Allison's bed. The little girl was fidgeting in her sleep, her knuckles white as they gripped the sheets tightly. Her face was the picture of pain, and she moaned every so often.

Doctor Jackson entered the room, his expression grave. "She's not going to last much longer."

Olivia turned to him. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"But if you think she's not going to last much longer…"

"You don't need to know why she's dying to see that she is." He replied swiftly, cutting her off. "Let it go, Olivia. The human world will be better off without a hero this powerful…"

"Don't you _dare _speak about her that way." Olivia growled. "Don't you see? She's just a child!"

Aforementioned child screamed. Her hands clawed at the air, then gripped Olivia's shirt tightly, pulling her down so that their faces were barely an inch apart.

Allison's eyes snapped open. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, coming out in gasps and coughs.

"This. World. Will. End." She said, each word its own sentence as she struggled to speak. Her eyes glossed over.

"You see?" Doctor Jackson asked smugly. "She's threatening…"

Olivia wasn't listening. She kept her eyes on Allison.

Allison gurgled, and blood pooled around her lips. "She will travel in shadow and he will rule the skies." Each statement was spoken in a gasp. "The world that hero and human share will die in flames, and only the two who have the most to gain from this collapse can save it. She must save the killer, and he must save the heart that he can not understand."

Allison's eyes dulled, and her hand feel limp to her side.

* * *

Music blared from large, black speakers. The volume was much louder than usual, even by Abby's standards. Abby floated around gracefully from one area to another, slowly lowering to the ground each time she walked to a different area.

McGee entered the room, two large Caf-Pows in his hand and a file tucked under his arm. He almost cried out as his feet left the ground. He rose in the air until his head hit the ceiling. He winced.

"Working on your gravity control, Abbs?" He asked.

Abby whirled around. "You're here!" She noticed his situation only after she stared at him for a moment. "Oh. Right." She smiled, and McGee slowly came back to the ground.

"Sorry about that." She continued, reaching for the Caf-Pow, smiling in thanks. "Keep forgetting that there are still normal people in the world."

McGee raised an eyebrow.

Abby realized he was taking her seriously. "Kidding, McGee." She chuckled and turned back to a computer screen. "So, I've been thinking on what we're going to do when we catch Sylar. I mean, we can't exactly keep him in a proper prison, but…"

McGee cleared his throat, looking awkwardly down at his feet.

Abby turned to him. "What?"

McGee swallowed. "Well, see, Abbs… _we _might have our memories back, but… not everyone does. Written reports are still there and… well, no one's going to accept the idea of super-powered humans."

Abby looked at him incredulously. "Then I'll _show them." _She held up a hand, where another ice javelin was forming.

"That wouldn't exactly be a good idea." McGee said slowly.

"Why not?"

McGee sighed heavily. "I did some digging, Abby. And, if you know where to look, there are sights you can get into…" he placed the file onto her desk. "There are some people out there who _do _know about abilities. And they take any and all heroes and, well, lock them away. First, there was something called The Company, and now there's a new one."

Abby looked at the file, searching through the papers, her expression growing more and more downcast. "But… we can't just let Sylar roam on the streets. He's a killer! He killed Jacob Reddon, he almost killed me and Katie, how long will it be before he kills again?"

McGee sighed again. "I'm not saying it's the right thing, Abbs. But it may be the only thing."

McGee looked at Abby's crestfallen face and knew he could say nothing to her. Slowly, he exited the room.

Abby thought for a long time. She turned to the computer screen once more, tapped a few keys, and waited. After a moment, she found what she was looking for.

The FBI website had a file on a certain 'Gabriel Gray.' Also known as Sylar, though the website only ever mentioned this briefly. But Abby would never forget that face, the face that she transferred onto all the screens in the room.

She took a deep breath. "I am a hero." She whispered softly. "And I don't play by human rules."

Abby closed her eyes, and was surrounded in darkness.

* * *

Sylar swore as he ran. There was no doubt in his mind; Abby really was a Shadow Traveler.

Katie had been gone for only five minutes before someone else had appeared; in the room next to his. Sylar had started running; there was nothing else he could do. He'd grabbed the first flashlight he could get his hands on and then blasted a hole in the wall. He'd raced through it, Abby close behind.

He'd thought about escaping to the skies; it seemed the only logical place. But Abby could control gravity.

He swore again and ran faster. His only hope was to get somewhere where the light outweighed the darkness. That still wouldn't get rid of Abby's other abilities, but it was his only chance.

But he never had the chance. Darkness swirled around him. Sylar swore repeatedly as it became complete, absolute. He couldn't see. He could barely breathe. Words whispered at him in the shadows.

"_She will travel in shadow and he will rule the skies. The world that hero and human share will die in flames, and only the two who have the most to gain from this collapse can save it. She must save the killer, and he must save the heart that he can not understand."_

And then he was somewhere else.

The world was nothing but dust and ash. Buildings had collapsed; charred and twisted metal littered the earth. Heat made the ground shimmer as the sun beat down.

In all that, Abby stood, surveying the carnage with a bewildered look.

Sylar was tired of running. He couldn't hurt Abby, but he could threaten her. Allison had forgotten that small detail.

He was next to her in a split-second, his hand clamped around her throat, though not tight enough to actually do anything. "Where are we, Shadow Traveler?" He demanded.

Abby's eyes narrowed, and ice began spreading up Sylar's arm.

"If you don't want that to shatter…" She said warningly. "I'd suggest you let go."

Sylar glowered at her, but slowly took his fingers away from her neck, forcing each one to move against the ice that had frozen them. Finally, his hand was off, though still partially frozen.

"That's better." Abby said with a smug smile. "And how would I know where we are? You're the one who brought me here."

Sylar's eyebrows twisted in confusion. "Impossible. I'm no teleporter; this _had _to be your doing or…" He swallowed. "Allison."

Abby raised an eyebrow as Sylar began to pace.

"Of course." He muttered angrily. "_Allison _brought us here." He froze. "But where, exactly, is here?"

Abby didn't get a chance to answer. At that moment, the sky began to get dark. Lightning crackled and struck out at them.

Abby cried out as she dodged to the side. The energy sizzled against the sand, melting it into glass.

Sylar started running again, but the lightning followed him. Bursts of light and heat came after the lightning. Something heavy struck him in the back and he fell to the ground.

He turned around, trying to get to his feet. His face was covered in sand and blood was pouring down from his lip, but he barely noticed it in his shock.

His eyes widened as someone landed in the sand in front of him. The man slowly stood up and looked at Sylar.

"Impossible!" Sylar whispered.

Before the man in front of him could do anything, Sylar felt two hands place themselves on his shoulders. The fingers were long and thin, the nails painted black.

Sylar barely had time to register this fact before he felt himself dissolve into shadow. It wasn't as though he was hidden in the darkness; no, he _was _the darkness. He was the shadow; he was part of each and every patch of dark on the planet.

He felt someone else there as well. Abby. Her mind pressed against his. He didn't know how he knew it was her. He just _knew. _

Despite the darkness, Sylar could still see through the shadows. A young woman was standing in front of him, her back to him. Sylar knew that this was the person who had taken him into this darkness. She glared at the other hero, the one who had attacked them in the first place.

"You should now better than this by now!" She said. Her voice echoed, and her hands were covered in some kind of mist. Ice crackled and spread across the ground. "Go back to the skies!"

The hero glared resentfully at her, but took off without a word.

She turned around, but Sylar didn't see her face before she melted into the shadows with him and Abby.

_Come with me. _Her voice whispered through the darkness.

Sylar and Abby obeyed.

It only took a few seconds before they burst into the light. It was a disorienting feeling; like being woken up with a glass of ice water.

Abby materialized next to him.

"What in the world do you think you were doing?" Their rescuer hissed. Sylar raised an eyebrow, surprised by her ferocity. The female hero started walking around the room, switching on lights as she did so. She hadn't turned to face them once.

"We…" Abby tried to answer.

"You're idiots!" She didn't let Abby answer. "I expect this from teenagers and little kids, but _adults? _You should know better than that! He's always in that area, and I can't always protect everyone…" She whirled around, shock causing her to trail off.

Sylar's eyes widened. Abby looked equally stunned.

The female hero and Abby stepped forward at exactly the same time, raising their hands simultaneously.

Abby swallowed.

The other woman grinned. "Well. I guess that would make sense."

Sylar stared at them.

Though she looked slightly older and had considerably more scars, there was no doubt in Sylar's mind. Their rescuer was Abigail Sciuto.

* * *

"Boss!"

McGee practically ran into Gibbs, panic in his eyes.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "What is it, McGee?"

McGee swallowed. "It's Abby, boss. I… I told her everything about… why we couldn't… Sylar…" he was babbling, unable to make a straight sentence.

Gibbs looked him directly in the eye. "What happened, McGee?"

He swallowed. "Abby's gone. I think she's going to find Sylar."

* * *

Sylar looked at Abby, and then at the other Abby.

He swallowed. This was too much. One Abby had been bad enough, but _two?_

But then again…

The future Abby noticed his expression and laughed. "A little crazy, eh?"

Sylar looked at her. "It would explain…" He swallowed again.

The future Abby grinned. "The Sylar that you saw attack you?" She suggested.

The other Abby whirled to face her. "That was Sylar?"

She nodded, then raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you listen?"

Sylar looked at her, dumbstruck. "Listen? Listen to what?"

The future Abby rolled her eyes, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Allison sent you here, correct? And she spoke, remember? _She will travel in shadow and he will rule the skies._ That's me and you."

Sylar looked at her. "_Rule the skies?"_

The future Abby raised an eyebrow. "Well, I won't deny it, Sylar. Your brain went a little fuzzy after the explosion."

"A little _fuzzy?_"

"You know. Insane."

* * *

Sylar watched from the skies, the clouds disappearing. Abby was a threat, as she always had been. And if there was one thing he could still understand, it was a threat.

But she was always getting in the way. The few heroes left on this planet were finally gaining sense; staying clear of open areas, never leaving the protection of the shadows.

And only two had been stupid enough to remain in New York.

They had to be shape-shifters. Though the forms they chose really were… different. He could somewhat understand the one that chose to look like Abby; if they thought they could confuse him long enough to hide, it would be a brilliant disguise. But the other one gave it away.

Why would someone try to look like Sylar himself?

It didn't make sense. What did they possibly hope to gain? Were they _trying _to get themselves killed?

He thought about this for a moment. There was only one person with the answers.

Allison.

He smiled to himself and flew off in another direction. If those two were with Abby, they would be long gone by now. His only hope of ever finding them again was the little girl who was still sleeping.

* * *

"You can _not _be serious."

The future Abby nodded reluctantly. "I'm afraid so." She replied.

The other Abby's eyes narrowed. "I'm not staying in _here _with _him, _all _night!_"

"It's no picnic for me, either." Sylar snarled back.

Her hands misted over, but the future Abby stepped in between the two.

"This must happen." Her eyes narrowed. "I remember it. It's a part of history now!"

The other Abby swallowed. "You remember it? How bad was it?"

The future Abby raised an eyebrow. "Not as bad as you'd think."

And, with that, she walked out and shut the door, locking it behind her.

"Well, this is _wonderful._" Abby bit out sarcastically.

Sylar's eyes narrowed as he put his hand in his pocket, fingering the flashlight he'd put in there, but he said nothing.

Abby sighed heavily and sat down. Sylar followed her example after a moment, sitting as far away from her as he could.

He pulled the flashlight out of his pocket, placing it on the ground next to him and switching it on.

Abby's eyes narrowed. "Aw, is the big bad serial killer afraid of the dark?"

Electricity crackled around him for a moment, but Sylar did nothing.

"What?" She demanded. "Nothing? You're not going to say _anything?_"

He raised an eyebrow. "What, exactly, do you want me to say?"

"How about 'I'm sorry for killing you, Abby, I'll never ever do it again.'?"

The other eyebrow joined the first. "That's strange. I was rather under the impression that _you _were going to kill _me._"

There was silence for a long time.

Finally, Abby spoke up again. "Are you… are you scared of _me?_" The idea seemed impossible. Ridiculous.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You don't even _know _the extent of your ability, do you?"

She barked out a laugh. "I didn't even know I _had _this ability until this morning!"

There was another long silence, completely unbroken.

Finally, Sylar spoke again. "Do you… Do you mind if I try something?"

Abby looked at him. "So long as it doesn't involve someone being tortured, maimed, or killed, why not?"

"Well…" He looked down. "This might hurt a little."

"Than forget it."

He sighed. "It's just a theory, anyway."

They said nothing for a minute.

Finally, Abby rolled her eyes. "Fine. What is this 'theory'?"

He smiled and lifted the flashlight, his face the picture of innocence. "I just wanted to see what happened."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think a flashlight could hurt me?"

He shrugged. "We'll see, won't we?" He held out a hand.

She shrunk backwards. "No way. I'm not going anywhere _near _you. If you want to test your little theory, you can do it from there."

He sighed. "I can't hurt you, Abby."

"Tell it to someone who believes you."

"No, I literally _can't. _Allison told me not to."

"And you listen to the orders of a little girl?" Abby snorted.

"A _telepathic _little girl. One who makes you keep your promises. If I hurt you, I'd die."

Abby looked at him for a long time.

Finally, she sighed and stood. She walked over to him, sat down again, and placed her hand in his.

He smiled and shone the flashlight on it.

"That all?" She asked.

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "From what I've heard of Shadow Travelers, they can't stand light."

"So… what? You think I'm not a real Shadow Traveler?"

"No. The future version of you is proof that you are. After all, she brought us here through the shadows, remember?"

Abby looked at him, taking her hand back away from him. "So that's what Shadow Travel is? Just… moving through the shadows?"

He looked back at her. "You really _don't know?_"

She shrugged. "Like I said. I didn't even know I had an ability until this morning."

He sighed. "Shadow Travel is… a unique ability. I thought it was just a myth until…" He sighed again.

There was another long silence before he finally spoke again.

"Humans have always had a natural fear of the dark. Normally, heroes don't have that fear. In their minds, it's explained. Another hero that travels through the dark; big deal." His eyes smoldered as they locked on hers. "But what they don't realize is that these heroes are _monsters._"

Abby's eyes narrowed. "If there's one monster in this room, it's not me."

He chuckled. "Technically, you are a monster. A creature. Not human. You can kill people; destroy buildings with just a thought. The question is…" He looked at her. "_Will _you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "That's a pretty deep statement for a serial killer. Where did you get it, a fortune cookie?"

He smiled. "Never heard of Spider-Man? Great power, great responsibility?"

She glared at him. "Figures."

He laughed. "The difference between you and me, Abby, is that I don't _deny _that I'm a monster. A freak of nature. Inhuman. I accepted it. I _wanted _it."

She looked down. "The sad thing is, that doesn't surprise me. At all."

He looked at her. "What doesn't?"

"That you wanted to be a killer. I…I couldn't imagine you as anything else."

"You think I _wanted _to be a killer?" He asked. His eyes burned holes into the side of her face. "You think I was always this way? Nothing but a ruthless bastard who ripped open everyone's heads?"

"Weren't you?" She looked at him at last. "To be honest, I just can't see anything else."

Sylar didn't reply for a very long time. In fact, Abby thought he was asleep before his voice broke her out of her thoughts.

"Shadow Travelers are the reason humanity is afraid of the dark. Don't get me wrong; heroes are afraid, too. But they know _why._" He sighed. "They melt into shadows, they _become _the darkness. They can appear anywhere in the world that has even the slightest trace of a shadow."

"Like… teleportation?" Abby asked, ignoring the subject change. She'd experienced this part of Shadow Travel; she'd used it to find Sylar.

He smiled humorlessly. "A little more complicated than that. Any type of light can alter their course; make it so they can't materialize in certain areas." He sighed. "But when it's complete darkness… then things change. It's on their side. They can keep you from seeing them, keep you from knowing what's coming. The dark becomes their weapon, and they can destroy anything with it. _Anything."_

"Weapons… like that ice thingy I created?"

"If you wanted. But there are bigger things. Stronger things."

"You mean bombs."

"Not exactly. If you wanted, the darkness could… completely destroy something. A person. A building. The world. It would become… nothing. It would no longer exist."

"Disintegration?"

He nodded. "Precisely."

Abby shivered. She hadn't known…

There was silence again, a deafening silence that roared and echoed around them.

**A/N: Sadly, I do not own Spider-Man. **


	6. The Monster Revealed

Sylar and Abby hadn't spoken in hours. Abby would have thought he was asleep if he hadn't kept the flashlight on; pointing at his face. His eyes were still open.

Abby wanted to sleep, but she couldn't. She wasn't tired enough. Which was surprising; considering the fact that she hadn't slept much the night before, either.

"You really think you're a monster?" Abby finally asked. She couldn't help it.

He looked at her. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe."

* * *

Sylar flew over to where the little girl was sleeping. The sun hit her in brilliant rays; no trace of shadow was allowed anywhere near her. She was also very high off the ground; Sylar ruled the skies, and even Abby wouldn't dare declare war by controlling gravity around her. It could result in another explosion, and it was rare enough to find someone who had survived the first one.

Abby couldn't risk the world for one girl.

Besides, Sylar wasn't hurting her.

"Hello, Katie." He said coolly as he flew over to Allison.

The Pyrokenist looked at Sylar through narrowed eyes. She placed her hands, flaming, on the sides of the force field that was containing her. "So help me Sylar, when I get out of here…"

He smiled. "Which you won't."

Katie continued as though he hadn't spoken. "I will personally barbeque you alive."

He turned to face her, smirking. "Oh? Really, Katie?" He chuckled. "Your eyes say differently."

Katie glared back, but her face paled slightly. During the explosion, her eyes, and her ability, had flared. Her eyes had burned, a bright, brilliant amber that blazed across to the skies.

She had been so powerful, so in control, for just that brief second. But, after the explosion, and after she and her daughter had been captured, not even her fury was enough to bring forth a strong enough reaction to make them amber again. There would be times, yes, where they would change for a brief minute, but then it would disappear.

She was never strong enough to escape. Never strong enough to stop him, to keep him away from Allison.

Sylar turned back to the little girl, lifting her arm and letting the tattoo, just below her small wrist, shine in the sunlight.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, you bastard!" Katie brought forth every ounce of power she had, but it wasn't enough. Her eyes flashed to an almost yellow color, then faded back to their dull brown.

Sylar just smiled and looked at the small tattoo again. He stroked it very gently, slowly coaxing the unconsciousness out of her.

Allison's eyes opened. She blinked once, then turned to face Sylar.

"Interesting. You're confused about something." She was certain of her words. She sat up calmly.

He smirked. "And what makes you say that?"

She looked around, clearly undisturbed by the distance between herself and the ground. "You would not have woken me up otherwise. Your mind may be riddled with imperfections, but your actions still have a certain kind of sense."

He chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?"

"As you wish. However, I would prefer it if you would please ask your question so that I may go back to sleep. I no longer care for this world, nor those on it. I have no need; it has already ended."

Sylar's piercing gaze penetrated her own. "There were two shape-shifters that were stupid enough to remain here."

"How did you know they were shape-shifters?"

"It was obvious. He looked like me, and she looked like Abby."

Allison smiled softly. "Then they are here at last."

Sylar looked at her warily. "What do you mean?"

Allison's responsive smile was a strange one. A look of triumph flashed in her eyes, though a sadness hid with it. "Do you truly believe that I would leave the world defenseless? I created the ultimate strategy; as I always do."

"What kind of strategy?" Sylar asked tentatively.

She ignored his question. "Of course you didn't believe that. If you did, you would not have created this illusion."

Sylar's ears pricked. "_What _illusion?"

Allison smiled. "I'm dead, Sylar. I died three days after the explosion."

Sylar stumbled back. "But… but you're here! You were- _are- _immortal! _Invincible! _You can't die!"

Allison smiled coldly. "Oh, but I can. And I did." She chuckled, looking at Katie. Behind the force field containing her, the pyrokenist was laughing.

Laughing at him.

"Funny how that works out, isn't it?" Allison asked. "You worked so hard to kill me, and when you finally managed it, you couldn't let me go." She barked out a laugh.

Katie's eyes were glowing, the brilliant amber once more. Fire danced and blazed around her; she was powerful again.

"The explosion took her life." Allison said, gesturing vaguely towards her mother. "You took mine."

Sylar looked at her in shock. He was unable to move, unable to do anything. He was powerless to stop the small girl as she smiled.

"This future has ended." Her ethereal voice was full of triumph.

And she disappeared.

Sylar whirled around. Katie waved at him, then disappeared as well. He was left looking at force field in the shape of a bubble. An empty force field. There was no trace of shadow in this area, but there was also nothing to form a shadow.

The truth slowly came to him. Allison and Katie were nothing but the products of his own-dare he say it? - insanity.

"I am _not _insane!" He growled to himself.

He could almost hear Allison's voice, mocking him from the grave. _Maybe not. But you are alone._

* * *

Abby struck out, her ice javelin connecting with Sylar's.

"Good!" The serial killer praised her. "Very good." He whirled his around once, and his came towards her head.

"Can I ask you a question?" Abby asked, blocking the blow.

"Go ahead."

"When you discovered my ability…" She ducked as the point came at her face. "You thought that I only had this freezing thing. And you already had that ability." She slammed the end of her javelin into his, knocking his upwards.

"That's not a question."

"Why did you still want to kill me?"

"Ah." He ducked. "Two reasons. One, if your ability was more powerful than mine-which it is, if you're wondering- than I still needed to take it."

"And if it wasn't?"

"All heroes are a threat, Abby. Humans, I can handle. Heroes, not so much. Not always."

There was silence as Abby thought about this. The only sound came from the javelins, ringing as they clashed against one another. Abby had thought it was a joke, him teaching her how to fight like this. But he had been so serious, so set on helping her. Abby guessed that Allison had told him to protect her or something.

A blazing pain in her cheek snapped her out of her thoughts. She'd missed that last blow, and the tip of his javelin had sliced into her skin…

She hissed and stumbled backwards, but Sylar looked as though he was in much more pain than she was.

"It was an accident!" He screeched, clutching at his head, clawing at it, as though trying to tear out the pain. "An accident! Surely you can understand that!"

Abby backed away from him hurriedly, afraid once more. For one shining moment, she'd been certain that he really _couldn't _hurt her, that he was simply unable to…

"_Please!" _The pain in Sylar's voice was remarkable. His words came out in a strangled cry, his breathing becoming heavy and harsh. "_Please, _you can't _do this!" _He collapsed to the floor, crying out in agony. "It was an _accident!" _His eyes locked on Abby's, pleading with her, begging her to do something, as though she was the one who was causing this agony.

Abby looked at him in shock.

"Tell her!" He pleaded. "Please, Abby, tell her it was an accident!"

Abby didn't need to ask who he meant. In some impossible way, Allison must still have control over his mind, some connection with him, even this far into the future.

But Abby didn't know how to tell her.

"It… it was!" She said out loud, hoping that it would work. "It was an accident!"

There was no doubt in her mind that this was true. Sylar's face was the picture of anguish; and he would never inflict that kind of pain on himself. Especially not for something as small as a cut.

Sylar looked at her for a minute, his eyes glazing over. Abby looked in fear, certain that she was going to see him die, that these were his last moments…

She knelt down next to him, at level with his hollow eyes. Abby might not like this man, but she never liked to see anyone die. "It was an accident."

Slowly, the clarity began to return to Sylar's eyes. He let out a soft sigh of relief, and his breathing began to slow down.

He fell back onto the floor, his eyes closing. Unconscious. Alive, but unconscious nonetheless.

* * *

Outside of the room, Abby, or Abby as she would eventually be, was smiling. This future could change, just as Allison had promised.

She melted herself into the shadows, appearing inside the room, staying in her darkness, part of the shadow. She watched the situation calculatingly, without being seen.

The Abby from her past was sitting next to Sylar's limp and unconscious form. She looked genuinely concerned.

Could it be happening?

The future Abby smiled to herself and concentrated on a certain patch of darkness, far away from here…

When she opened them, she was standing in a dark room. She allowed her form to solidify before exiting the room.

"She was right." She said.

The person in front of her jumped; Abby often scared people when she materialized in their homes.

"Don't do that to me, Abbs." He said, a hand to his chest as he waited for his heart to work properly again.

She smiled. "Sorry, Doctor Jackson."

Doctor Jackson, the only human left alive on the planet, stared at her in silence for a moment before finally asking. "Who was right?"

"Allison. The Abby and Sylar from the past may not exactly be the best of friends, but they don't entirely hate each other."

He raised an eyebrow. "So you really think it's possible? That you two could become… friends? Even after he tried to kill you?"

"I don't see why not."

He studied her for a long time before speaking again. "This is a dangerous time, Abbs. You need to be careful."

Abby smiled and faded into the shadows once more. "Always am!" Her voice called.

* * *

Abby smiled as Sylar slowly struggled to sit up. "You ok?"

He looked at her for a long time, thinking about her question. Finally, he nodded. "I think so."

"You scared me for a minute there."

He raised an eyebrow. "You actually cared?"

Abby felt her face turn red. "No." She said quickly. Too quickly. She decided to elaborate. "I just didn't want you to die because of a stupid little accident. No one deserves that."

The other eyebrow joined the first, but he said nothing more.

There was silence for a moment, and then Abby spoke. "So… you want to try again?" The ice javelin began forming in her hand once more.

He looked at her incredulously. "You took that well. I thought you were going to kill me." He looked down at where he had been lying on the ground only a moment before. "I pretended to be asleep for the past five minutes. Figured I'd have a few extra minutes to live."

She raised an eyebrow. "You really think I could kill you?"

"I don't see why not. Disintegration is powerful stuff."

"But… you think I _would? _Over something like _that?_"

He studied her for a long time. Abby squirmed uncomfortably under his piercing gaze.

"I would have." He replied at last.

He extended his hand, the ice in it forming into a javelin. "You sure you want to continue?"

"I don't see why not."

He smiled. "On your own head, then." He stood, and Abby did the same.

The javelins clashed, again and again. Sylar was fast, but Abby's eyes could trace each of his movements.

That was another question she had.

The battle continued as though nothing had happened. "Sylar?"

"Yes?"

"I don't… don't know how to ask this… or even if it's connected… but…"

"But…?"

"Well, when I found out I was a hero… everything became… clear. Like, I could see everything, in slow motion almost. And it was all perfect…"

Sylar sucked in a deep breath. "And your skin frosted over." He completed for her.

"Yeah."

"Interesting."

"Does it mean anything?"

Sylar thought about this for a moment. His javelin shattered under hers, but he didn't seem disturbed by this fact. "It's happened before. A hero will gain extra strength in other areas then just their ability. Your clearer vision, the frosted skin… physical changes that are minor, but still there."

"Go on."

"Well, I've only ever really _seen _that happen once. With Katie. Her eyes would change color. Her hair exploded into red…" He trailed off, a distant look in his eyes. There was silence for a moment, then Sylar shook his head as if to clear it.

"It's a slight weakness, if I'm honest." He told her. "It will let humans know there's something… different about you. But it should only happen on rare occasions. When you're terrified, for example."

Abby thought for a minute. "But… you thought that terror sparked the ability in the first place. Survival instinct and all that."

"It does."

"Not for me. Not for Katie."

Sylar shot a dark look in her direction. "What do _you _know about Katie?" he demanded harshly.

Abby winced. Sylar didn't know about that memory she'd had, the memory that was not her own. The memory that she knew now was Katie's. She'd given it a lot of thought in the past days.

"I… Umm… I…"

He came up to her. Abby winced, though she knew he couldn't hurt her. His hands gripped her shoulders in an iron vice.

"I told you the name. I told you the ability. I told you that I'd showed her what her ability was." His words were concise, a clipped tone, laced with venom. "I did _not, _however, tell you _anything _further." His eyes locked on hers. "So why would you _lie _to me about _that, _of _all things?_"

Abby looked at him, surprised that his voice wavered very slightly. An unnamable emotion filled his dark eyes.

"It's… not a lie…" Abby stammered out. "I… something happened to me… I don't know how to explain it."

He looked at her, then slid his hand down her arm until his hand was holding hers. He whirled around so suddenly and viciously that Abby's whole body lurched. He dragged her to the other end of the room like that, then sat down, pulling her with him.

"Start explaining." He growled.

Abby looked at him for a long time. "Why do you care?"

Sylar's hand twitched. Abby flinched, expecting it to strike her in the face.

"Start explaining." He repeated.

Abby swallowed and slowly launched into the story of what had happened in her mind the night she'd discovered her ability. About the memory that wasn't hers. About seeing through Katie's eyes. About that furious face in the mirror, a hideous triumph in those amber eyes.

Sylar said nothing for a very long time. Finally, he let go of her hand.

She hurriedly slid across the wall, trying to remain subtle about her movements. Sylar's eyes were blank and hollow; he'd clearly figured out what the memory was and who it belonged to.

Finally, he spoke. "I didn't know she hated me."

Abby was taken aback at the agony in his voice, but she didn't get to speak before he continued.

"I thought she might be scared of me. Angry at me. But… I didn't know she _hated _me."

Abby looked at him. He'd never looked so human. He was a monster, but he was a broken monster, shattered and torn on a level that Abby didn't understand. Sylar probably didn't even understand it.

"I didn't know you cared." It was probably putting herself even further in the noose, but Abby said it anyway. "I thought you were fine with being a killer."

He looked at her. "Not in her eyes."

She raised an eyebrow. "So you had a history or something?"

He chuckled darkly. "You could say that."

Abby said nothing further; she was just glad that he was in a better mood. Good enough for a chuckle, at any rate.

* * *

Sylar had long ago learned that this was a dream. But he almost wished it wasn't.

Because Katie was there.

Her red hair was flowing out onto her pillow in wave upon wave of flame. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and heavy as she slept.

He gently stroked her hair back. "How could you hate me?"

Katie didn't respond.

"I mean, I understand anger, but _hate?_"

This time, Katie's eyes flickered open. She looked up, her eyes studying him thoughtfully. "What did you expect?" her voice was soft.

"Fear." He replied. He didn't need to think about it; everyone was afraid. He paused for a moment, then elaborated. "Terror. Pain. Sadness. Anger, even. But never hate."

She arched an eyebrow. "You hurt me, Sylar. You made me bleed. You threatened me. You were going to kill me." Her eyes locked on him. "And I'd had enough. I'm not the kind of person who will crawl into a corner and die."

He considered this. "But how could you _hate _me?"

Katie sat up, staring deep into his eyes. "I'd changed, Sylar. I'd become a different person after all those years." She looked at him thoughtfully. "But it was nothing compared to how much you changed, Gabriel."

Sylar stared at her for a long time. For a brief, shining moment, things were as they were, so many years ago. Two little kids, smiling and laughing. Him hiding shyly behind thick glasses. Her laughing with him, the sun too bright on their faces. Just children, unaware of the darkness and pain that lay ahead of them.

Gabriel Grey and Katie Patson. Two children that wouldn't know how much things would change, that wouldn't know who and what they would become. Neither aware that, one day, he would be hurting her, trying to make her reveal her ability. Neither of them knowing that they would hate each other.

Just friends.

"Things have changed." Sylar said at last. "I had to change with them."

"As did I." Her voice was so quiet, just like her daughter's. "I had a life. A husband, a daughter, a _family. _I changed. I'm not Katie Patson, no more than you are Gabriel Grey."

Sylar looked at her. "That's right. I never asked but… who was the father?"

She looked back at him strangely, smiling somewhat ruefully. "Jacob Reddon."

Sylar stared at her, but he could do no more as the darkness closed around him.

* * *

Far away, in a completely different time, in fact, a little girl was sitting on her bed. She was rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself.

Her name was Allison Reddon. She was one of the most powerful heroes on the planet.

But she was just a little girl. And a very sick little girl for that fact.

Olivia watched helplessly as Allison's eyes darted about. The mumbling was constant, but none of it made sense.

But there had been a moment, where a soft smile had appeared on her lips.

It was the first time she'd spoken and the words hadn't been muffled and blurred. Though these words made no more sense than the others had.

Olivia didn't realize she was hearing half of a conversation until it was almost too late. She listened carefully for the last few lines.

"I'm not Katie Patson. Any more than you are Gabriel Grey." There was a long pause, and then Allison continued, her voice strange and distorted, an adult voice coming from the child's body. "Jacob Reddon."

And then it was over. All clarity in her eyes disappeared.

Olivia did not know that Allison was replaying a message. That she was speaking through time itself into a man's dreams. Telling him what he needed to hear.

The message had come from Katie Reddon, though both Katie and Sylar believed it to be nothing more than a dream.

But dreams were so different with this hero around.

She coughed, a dry, wheezing cough that rattled in her lungs and up her throat. Olivia winced at the sound.

"You'll be ok, sweetie." Olivia whispered, continuing with her empty promises. Allison was not listening.

Her throat was burning from the cough. It felt torn and ripped. Her lungs ached. Her heart kept skipping. Her head throbbed, and she couldn't move.

More then that, she felt _cold. _The world was so quiet, so frozen, so desperate. There was only one option, but it would be giving these people exactly what they wanted.

Allison realized then how much she truly hated Brock. She hated his lack of care for life. She hated his ridiculous experiments on the heroes. She hated his smug smile. She hated how he got away with _everything. _

She hated him for making her this sick. She hated him for giving the shot that turned her abilities against her. Because now Allison's body needed rest. Just rest, and nothing more.

But Allison was a very powerful hero, despite her age. And her body reacted naturally to disease. It forced her asleep, surrounding her in ice to keep her from being harmed. Ice that was harder than any diamond.

The world was slowly turning colder around her. Her chest was tight; the cold was gripping it like iron, wrapping her in chains that were impossible to break the way she was.

Olivia watched in absolute horror as the little girl's body was slowly wrapped in mist, tendrils of it snaking around her, dancing and weaving together. They slowly began to solidify into crystal clear and sparkling ice.

Through that, Olivia could see the small child. Her hair was floating around her head, and her eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful; a real child instead of a powerful hero.

Brock entered the room with a smile, and Olivia jumped. She hadn't realized he was there.

"That was easier than I expected."


	7. Remember Who You Are

Olivia hated Brock.

She realized that only now, as she stared at Allison's limp form, suspended in ice forever.

She'd protested this once. Just once.

And what had he said?

"This is the best thing. She's a hero. You're not. Unless, of course, you _want _to be a _traitor?_"

It was the end of her life as a normal human, and the beginning of her life as a traitor. Allison didn't deserve this; she had never deserved this. Powerful she may be, but she was also a little girl.

Olivia pulled out her phone and dialed the number. She hadn't known why she'd bothered to memorize the number, but she was glad of it now.

After two rings, an irritable voice snapped, "Hello?"

"Katie Reddon?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Olivia Black. I have some information about Allison."

* * *

Despite Allison's hatred towards Brock, even she could not deny the effects his experiment had.

It was strange, the little things that affected abilities. The small things that made them so much better.

Allison had always been an observer of the paths the future could take. She could always watch, and give advice to those who needed it.

Now, the side effects of having an actual form had vanished. Nothing could hurt her anymore; her body was encased in ice and her mind was a part of the time stream itself.

She smiled inwardly as she watched Olivia dial the number.

Now was the time for heroes to rise.

* * *

"MINE!"

Sylar laughed as Abby pounced on the object that her future self had left in the room.

Abby hugged it for a moment, then shoved her arms through the sleeves. "Oh, that's so much _better._" She said approvingly.

Sylar raised an eyebrow, looking at the coat as she twirled around, modeling it for him. "What do you think?"

"There's a stain."

"Of course there is! A lab coat is no good without a stain or two!" She stroked the white coat affectionately.

Sylar chuckled. "If that's what you think."

"Oh, I do. I do I do I do." She twirled around again, her excitement lifting her off the ground as gravity released its hold on her.

Sylar gripped her ankle and pulled her back down to the Earth. "Relax, Abbs."

She grinned, unable to do as he'd asked.

Sylar paled suddenly. "I'm sorry."

It caught her off guard. "For what…?"

"I… never mind."

"What?" She demanded.

He looked down, swallowing nervously. "I…I called you… Abbs."

For a moment, neither of them said a word. The world seemed to hold its breath.

Abby tried to be mad at him. She really did. After all, she'd been furious at him for this before.

Despite that, despite what Sylar had done, despite the fact that she'd been convinced she hated him, despite everything Sylar had done to her, Abby couldn't be mad at him for calling her 'Abbs.'

She smiled. "Well, you're just lucky it was at a good time. I'm too happy about this to deal with you." She gestured first to the lab coat, and then to the serial killer as she talked.

Sylar let out the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.

She looked at him for a moment. "You're really scared of me, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "If you haven't figured that out by now, Abby…"

But she cut him off. "No, you're _really scared. _Like, I can understand kinda-scared or sorta-scared, but you're _terrified._"

Sylar paused, then said, "Let's just say that there's only one other person in all of time that scares me as much as you do. And that's Allison."

Abby thought about this for a moment. "Allison scares you. Somehow, that just doesn't add up. She's _five._"

Sylar smiled ruefully. "That's what I thought when I first met her."

"And… what happened?"

Sylar stared at her for a moment. The intensity of his gaze made Abby fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, he sighed. "It's… it's better if I just show you."

He came towards her slowly, hands outstretched. Warily, Abby allowed him to place them on her face.

He closed his eyes, and suddenly she was somewhere else.

* * *

_Sylar shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down against the rain, protecting his face from the wind. A fine mist of rain was drizzling down on him, and the clouds kept the world in a soft grey light. _

_Sylar loved days like these. These cold, grey days, when the wind bit at his face icily and water washed everything from the air. The smell of the city, so close to being absolutely toxic, was being washed away slowly._

_He'd always loved these days. They helped him think. Even back in the old days, before he'd discovered his abilities, before he'd found his powers, he would go outside and walk in the rain, not caring about the cold. It was as close as he'd get to being different; most people hid inside on days like these, or were seen dashing around in the rain, trying to get out of its harsh tones. But not him. Never him._

_His footsteps made strange noises as he walked. Not loud enough to be the splash that came from puddles, but not soft enough for the squish that came from wet shoes. It wasn't an unpleasant sound._

_He briefly remembered the past, remembered his older days. The days of Gabriel Grey, the watchmaker's son who became a watchmaker. Things never changed with him. Everything stayed the same._

_But he could only remember the past for so long, before his true nature won out. There would be plenty of time for him to think of Gabriel; he had hundreds and thousands of years. He was immortal, after all._

_Now was the time to think of power. Though the rain had cleared the dizzying need for it from his mind, he knew it would return, just like it had countless times. He had to think, to plan. Who else was like him, special, powerful? Who else had an ability out there? _

_More importantly, how would he find them? How would he get close enough to destroy them and steal the ability from their grasp? _

_The first thing he saw was the flame. It stood out against the grey of the sky, against the drizzling rain. It was a brilliant, bright, vivid red that burned, screaming its call to the sky._

_Sylar watched it curiously. It could not be a flame. Any fire, especially one that small, would be extinguished immediately in the rain and wind. _

_The fire whipped around in strange patterns, patterns that began to make more sense as Sylar kept walking towards it. It was no flame._

_It was a young girl. _

_Brown eyes stared at him from a pale face, ringed with bright, flame-red hair. The brown eyes were flecked with gold, and recognizable, so very recognizable._

_"Katie?"  
_

_The word escaped his control, forcing its way through his lips in a soft whisper. _

_But it could not be Katie. The resemblance was incredible, but the person in front of him was nothing more than a child. Three, maybe four years old._

_She shook her head. Her brown eyes locked on Sylar's, completely fearless. _

_"Are you Sylar?" She asked. Her voice had a soft, ethereal quality to it. It floated and danced, a song in a whisper, an echo from a past best forgotten._

_He smiled. She seemed intelligent. Perhaps too intelligent, for such a young child. A young _human _child, at least. "Who wants to know?"_

_She didn't reply. She simply stared at him, waiting for his response. _

_He swallowed, somewhat unnerved by the intensity of her gaze. Her eyes held an age to them that was somehow beyond her years. "Yes."  
_

_She nodded slowly. "Good. Very good. I've been looking for you for a very long time." Her eyes locked on his. "My name is Allison."  
_

_Sylar decided to give the child the benefit of the doubt. She had to be confused. The name 'Sylar' must have appeared in a conversation she'd overheard. Something. "Where are your parents, kid?"_

_She arched an eyebrow. "Is that really your concern?"_

_"Well, there are a lot of dangerous people out here." He smiled darkly, hoping to scare the child away. But she remained confident, staring directly into his eyes. "You really shouldn't talk to strangers."  
_

_She smiled. "I think I can handle myself."_

_Sylar looked at her. There it was. She had an ability. No other child her age would speak like this, have this kind of vocabulary, and act so confident. _

_He raised a hand, and Allison rose in the air, an invisible hand clamped around her throat. "And what makes you say that?"_

_Allison laughed, seemingly unhurt by the strain on her throat. "Oh, Sylar. You know nothing."_

_He smiled dangerously. "I know that you have an ability. And whatever it is, it's powerful." He came a step closer. "I think, perhaps, I should relieve you of it."  
_

_She laughed again. "And what makes you think I'll _let you?_"_

_His telekinetic hold broke, but the child stayed suspended in the air. Her arm curled, then flew out like a whip. A lance of blue light lashed out towards him, arcing into a brilliant, blinding flare._

_Ice crackled away from the light, spreading across the ground. The world turned cold around them. The rain froze in mid-air, falling down and shattering against the ground like glass, the shards sparkling like diamonds before fading into the white ice below it. _

_And Allison laughed._

_Sylar stared at her with wide eyes as she slowly came back to the Earth. _

_"You are a fool, Sylar!" She snapped. "A fool! This person you believe you see is trapped, in a cage far beneath the world you know! _I am trapped!_ Don't you see? Don't you understand? This is only an illusion!"_

_She came towards him. Sylar's lip curled in a snarl, and he lashed out, a blast of electricity flying from his hand. _

_The child's hand whipped up and caught it expertly, her tiny fingers closing around it, extinguishing its light. "This is illusion. Oh, the abilities, the power, the ice and the electricity, it's all real. But I'm not here. I never was."_

_Sylar hadn't known fear in a long time. The emotion was unfamiliar, strange as it clawed at his heart. He stumbled backwards. "You're here! Now!" He gasped out, suspecting that the terror was showing in his eyes._

_She laughed again. "Listen to me, Sylar! You have seen what my mere illusion can do! And if there's one thing I know you understand…" Her brown eyes locked on his own. "It's a _threat._"_

_He swallowed._

_"Now understand this!" She snapped. "The future will end, and it is my job, as it always has been, to protect it. Time needs me." Blue light glowed around her as the ice grew thicker beneath her feet. "And it may need you."_

"_This is why I'm here." She continued. "To protect you. And to protect others from you. This meeting has been delayed for far too long. Already, people will suffer for _my _mistakes!"_

"_What are you talking about?" He demanded._

"_SILENCE! I am the one speaking here!"_

_Normally, Sylar wouldn't take orders from anyone, especially not a little girl. But there was something in her words, something that whispered of a horrible darkness, that made him keep his lips sealed. _

_Her eyes glowed brilliantly. "I am here for one reason only. So that you will know, when the time comes, that it is better to do as I say. Because time will need you, Sylar, as it needs so many, if the future is to be changed."_

_And with that, Allison vanished. The ice remained, forever to be a reminder of who and what she was._

_

* * *

_

Abby looked at Sylar, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat. "You were going to kill her."

He flinched, as though her words were backed by physical blows. "It's my nature, Abby."

"It's not. You were going to kill her. A little girl. Just for some ability." Her eyes narrowed, and her arms folded over her chest.

He glowered back at her. "You don't understand. You can't _possibly _understand."

"Then _help me_ understand!" Abby snapped.

The statement took Sylar off guard. The anger abruptly drained from his features.

"You… you actually want…" His mouth gaped. "Abby…"

He never finished his sentence. The wall beside them exploded, a shower of dust and ash raining down on them.

As the dust began to clear, a man stood in the rubble. His eyes were glittering, anger etched into every line on his face.

Sylar crawled next to Abby, trying to shield her, keep the man from noticing her. He had no doubt that this man had come for _her._

His words confirmed Sylar's suspicions. "Where is Abby?" They were dark and dangerous, spoken in a voice that Sylar knew well.

It was _his _voice, after all.

The Future Sylar glowered down at them. "_Where is Abby?"_


End file.
